

it 



M 







mmm 



mWmmW 



liiMiiiili! 







lllii; ''i 






\<' i^S \ 



V^ , >^ 



.,0 O ' 



,-r 



,0' 



r> A- 






^v* , ^' v; '^ ■ C- 



\. ._r- 



^^' .<<^ 
/' 






''x -"^Jf^' 



.-^^^^ 



.H -r. 



'^.>. *' ', V • s^- 



>' 









s>>"^_ 



,0 • *B "'-■* 



^ '.^l^v 


>r 


-N^^^" "''^,. 


















■' ' :> ■^', 













^_ />'-'■■• 




7-^ 



-0^ 



->. ^ 



"-?> 












% 
«# 






^ vO^ -' \, '// o 






A"- \ ^ 






^% 






c 



'^0^ 






^ V 



o 












.v\^ 



a\ - - '- 



" * '^c 



\' 






^X' 



■* .^0 






X 



N a 



<^ -V 



-p 






^^^' 



-^' 



C^ ^ ^"ci c^ ^ 'i 



,\' 



\' 



v"^' 






>■ 



. ,^^^ 



>% 



^ 



"-f 



r''^ 



^,~^^2^ 










■ ■ -^c. 



^ 



,c,- 



^^^<^ 
#' "^^_ 



' !> k '^ 












- ■ ■ ^^^0^ 



'K^- 
^ V 



•V 









O 



1- 



''^lA^' - 



3,^^- 



^ " 




o 



Z' 






"• PAEIS IN '6Y; 



OK^ 



THE GREAT EXPOSITION, 



ITS 



SIDE-SHOWS AND EXCURSIONS. 



BY HENEY*^MOKrOKD, 

("The Governor,") 

ATTTHOB OF " OVBR-SEA," " SHOULDER-STRAPS,'" " DATS OF SHODDY," " OOTIEAOB 
AND COWARDICE," "UTTERLY WRECKED," ETC., ETC. 






T^NEW YORK: 
GEO. W. CARLETON & CO., PUBLISHERS. 

LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO. 

MDCCOLXVII. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S67, by 

GEO. W. CARLETON & CO. 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Conrt of the United States for the 

Southern District of Nevv York. 






RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
TO 

0. BAINBEIDGE SMITH, ESQ., 

COUNSELLOR- AT-LAW, 

OP 

NEW YORK CITY, AND OF " WHILE AW AY," STATEN ISLAND; 

AS WELL A3 
OLD EUROPEAN TRAVELER, AND SHARER WITH THE WRITER IN 

THE 
GAYETIES OF PARIS IN 1867. 



TABLE OF COlSTTENTS. 



About Things in General, and Things Introductory in Parti- 
cular. — ^A Beginning at Interlaken — Partial Friends, and the 
Grovernor's Promise — The Serious Error of Presence — l^ot Too 
Much of Paris, and All the Countries in their G-lory — The Aids of 
Other People Page 15 

n. 

"What "Paris in '67 " is Destined to Be. — The Blessed Privilege of 
Indefiniteness and Indolence — "What is Not "Wanted in Books of 
Travel — How to Neutralize all Faults by Mixing Plenty of Them — 
Glimpses to Come, of the Lake Country, the Shakspeare Neighbor- 
hoods, Switzerland, the Black Forest and KiUarney 21 

ni. 

About the Emperor of the French, and His "Work of 186*7. — 
The Governor's Missing Cross of the Legion — Peace-triumphs in- 
augurated by "War -nations — ^The late Prince Consort and Napoleon 
the Third — Has the Latter Done "Well and Deseryed "Well in the 
Great Exposition? 26 

IT. 

"Whereabouts of the Great Exposition — The Champ de Mars. — 
Where is It ? — A little Definite Information — The Meaning of the 
Name and Origin of the Grounds — Historical Glimpse of the Champ 
de Mars from Louis XV. to Napoleon III. — "What it "Was and 
Is 32 



yi CONTENTS. 

Y. 

How Paris "Prepared to Receive Boarders." — Paris Washing Its 
Face — French Houses and French Living — ^Every Thing to Let — 
Lodging-Houses — The Episode of Madame "W. and lost Celestine — 
The Grab Pattern set by the Exposition — How all Paris followed 
it — The Old Corporal's Horse-and-Cart Story — Scenes in the 
Maisons Meublees — How the Gfovernor and Anna Maria went to 
the Exposition in State Page 40 

YL 

The Eagle's Brood in Europe. — Something about National Eagles 
and the G-ray Forest Eagle of the "West — Who are the " Eagle's 
Brood" — ^Infinite Variety of Americans Visiting Europe — The 
Curiosity and Respect Paid to the Land of the West in 1861 — 
American Peculiarities Abroad 59 

vn. 

The Carnival of Crowned Heads. — The Gathering of Royalty at 
Paris — How the Parisians and their Visitors Hunted the Crowned 
Heads — Reminiscences of Previous Visits — How the Royal Hosts 
Cover up Awkward Marks and Ugly Scars — Classification of the 
Notables — Who were Not Present, from the Pope to the King of 
the Cannibal Islands ; and Why — The Reception of the Czar. — The 
Opera and Attempted Assassination 69 

VIIL 

The Opening of the Exposition, as Seen by " Our Boy Tommy." 
— The Governor's Corps of Reliable Correspondents — Tommy, 
briefly Sketched — How Tommy has "Studied" in Paris — How it 
had Rained, preceding the Opening ; and How Nappy and Baron 
Haussmann had a Little Interview and Arranged about an Um- 
brella 83 



CONTENTS. vii 

IX. 

OpBNma OP THE Exposition — "Tommy's" Yersion — (Second Paper). 
— The Scene of the Opening Morning, from the Trocadero Hill — The 
Scene and Gathering before the Grande Porte — The Emperor's Ar- 
rival, with Glimpses of Those who Accompanied — The Opening 
Exercises, including Bad French and Botheration — Some Doubtful 
Stories of Fred. Eaikes Page 93 



The Great Exposition Building, Principally Without. — Attempt- 
ing the Impossible — How the Great Building differs from its 
Predecessors — "What Others have Said of it — Who are Responsible 
for it — The Building, its Transverse Galleries, Circles, and En- 
trances Ill 

XI. 

The Great Exposition Building, Inside and Arrangement. — How 
the National Divisions are Arranged ; and the Comparative Space 
allotted to Each — Refreshment-Room and Shop — What is likely to 
be the Destiny of the Great Building 121 

XII. 

The Park and Grounds op the Exposition. — Extent and Character 
of the Park — Comparative Space allotted to Each Nation — Magnifi- 
cent Incongruity — The Infinite Variety gathered from all the 
World — Sights and Sensations of the Tour of the Globe made 
around the Champ de Mars — The First Half. 130 

xin. 

Paek and Grounds of the Exposition (Concluded). — Continuing 
the Promenade — The Second Half — The Old and the New ; Ameri- 
can School-houses and Oriental Mosques — Mohammedanism in the 
Ascendant — A Glimpse that is only a Glunpse, lacking Sight, Sound, 
and Sensation 138 



yiii CONTENTS. 

XIY. 

Beauties op the Parc Fran9AIS. — The Holy of Holies of the Expo- 
sition — Landscape Gardening in its Perfection — The Stroll of the 
Captain and the Governor — Martial Music, and the Governor's little 
Story of John Best — The Serre Monumentalo and the Statue of the 
Empress — The Salt- Water Aquarium and its Oddities — One Ad- 
vantage of Despotism Page 148 

XY. 

The Imperial Balls — ^Ball of the Sovereigns at the H6tel de 
YiLLE. — The Counselor's Lady — Her Introduction and Apology — 
Copies of Hotel de Ville Invitations — The Hotel and the Gathering 
— The Eoyal Fireflies — Lights, Elowers, Music, and Perfume — The 
Embodiment of the " Arabian Nights " — The Little Adventure that 
befeU the Counselor's Lady, and her Glimpse of 1T93 and the Place 
de Greve ISt 

XYI. 

The Czar's Ball at the Tuileries. — The Counselor's Lady Once 
More — A " Private BaU " of Eight Hundred — One more Glimpse of 
1193, in a Parisian Crowd — The Illumination of the Tuileries Gar- 
dens — The Palace, the Cent Gardes, and the Master of Ceremonies 
— Ghmpses of the Sovereigns, on the Throne, among the People, 
and at Supper — Eoyalty Inspected under an Hundred Thousand 
Wax-lights 172 

XVIL 

The World's Jewels in the Big Casket, — ^How Elihu Burritt 
Apostrophized Labor, at the New York Crystal Palace — ^Wealth of 
the World in National and International Exhibitions — Cannon and 
Calico, Leather, Lingerie, and Locomotives — A mere Glimpse 
through the Exposition and the Picture-Gallery 194 



CONTENTS. ix 

xrni. 

America's Shake in the Divided Honors. — ^American DisadyantJiges 
in Preparing for the Exposition — Arrangements and Misarrange- 
ments — Commissioners and Committee-men — The American Fourth 
of July, and the Dinner at the Grand Hotel — American Pictures 
and Sculpture at the Exposition Page 211 



XIX. 



Aiterica's Share in the Diyided Honors — (Second Paper). — A 
Hasty Glance at American Articles generally — Honors Won at 
the "Distribution des Recompenses," and among the Jury of 
Visitors — Honors not "Won; Honors claimed to be "Won; and 
Honors that might have been "Won Yery Easily — Eegretted Ab- 
sences, and the Moral against another Opportunity. 224 

XX. 

The Side-Shows of Paris. — Parisian Theatres and Performances — 
The Cafes Chantants, with some Reflections on Pleasant "Wicked- 
ness — About the Great Gardens of Paris — Mabille, and an Evening 
there, with more than Glimpses of the Cancan and its Dancers — 
Lawless' little Adventure— Other Side-Shows ; in Paris, at Versailles, 
St. Cloud, St. Denis, Pere la Chaise, &c.— The Bon Marche. . . 234 



English Lake Glimpses. — What Mr. W. Suggested — How the Captain, 
Anna Maria and the Governor went to Windermere — The Road 
that was Long and the Sun that didn't Set — ^A Spell at Spelling — 
Windermere at Mght and the Lake Country by Day — Langdale 
and HelveUyn — Grasmere, Grasmere Church, and the Grave of 

Wordsworth — Rydal Mount and Ambleside 250 

1* 



X CONTENTS, 

XXII. 

"Sent to Coventry," with Peeps at K-ENIlworth and Warwick. 
— How I was " Sent to €orentry " — "Wolverhampton and Birming- 
ham — Tennyson and the "Three Tall Spires" of Coventry — St. 
Michael's, St. Mary's Hall, and Old Houses — Peeping Tom and the 
Godiva Stories and Processions — Kenilworth Castle, its Euins and 
Eoses— Guy's Cliff and Warwick Castle Page 264 

xxm. 

Two Days at Stratford and Charlecote. — How we came to Strat- 
ford-on-Avon — Warwickshire Markets — The Red Horse, and 
another demanded — Shakspeare's Birthplace and Anne Hathaway's 
Cottage — The Tomb, and the Church of the Holy Trinity — Charle 
cote Park and Charlecote Hall, with an ending at Leamington. 278 

XXIY. 

Hyde Park aiid Parliament. — The London Houses of Parliament, to 
Americans — Accommodations in the Lords and Commons — ^Per- 
sonnel of the Two Houses — ^Behavior and Oratory — Waiting for the 
M. P.'s — Hyde Park at the " Evening Hour," with its Carriage- 
Riders, its Equestrians, and the Reflections Incident to Both. . 294 

XXY. 

Between France and England. — Another Crossing from Newhaven 
to Dieppe — Making the Acquaintance of Young Hawesby — Sea- 
Sickness and Anna Maria, with some Peeps at the Secrets of that 
Lady's Career — The Battle-field of the Slain Amazons — Brute Nar- 
rowood and poor little Lizzie ; with a Sermon following — Over from 
Calais to Dover, with the pleasant Episode of Joe and his Um- 
brella 304 



CONTEI^TS. 3d 

XXYI. 

Bird-Flight dt Switzerland — Paris to Geneva and Chillon. — 
About Lady Eleanor and tlie Gipsy Queen — Down the Seine, the 
Yvonne and the Saone, to Macon — Up the Valley of the Rhone — 
Fu-st Glimpse of Mont Blanc — Geneva and the Hotel de la Cou- 
ronne — The Old Town and the Cathedral — Up the Lake to Chillon 
and thQ Castle thereof. Page 316 

XXYII. 

Bird-Plight in Switzerland — (II.) — Through the Oberland. — 
• Geneva to Berne, by Fribourg — Berne and the Bears — By Thun 
from Berne to Interlaken — Interlaken and the Jungfrau — The 
Glacier of Grindelwald and the Falls of Giessbach — Giessbach on 
Brienz — Over the Brunig Pass to Lucerne — The Rigs of the Rhigi — 
A Painful Doubt about the Bridge of Bale 333 

XXVIH. 

Strasbourg Pates and Baden-Baden Pin-Holes. — Bale to Stras- 
bourg — A Truant Steeple which turned out to be Strasbourg Cathe- 
dral — The City and the Clock — The Cathedral, a "Wonder in Archi- 
tecture — Old Houses, and the Church of St. Thomas — Badea- 
Baden and its Situation — The Conversation-House, the Drink-Hall, 
and the Promenade-Grounds — The Briefest of Peeps at Baden- 
Baden Gambling, with a Cool-Oflf in the Black Forest 349 

XXIX. 

The Sun-Burst Over Ireland. — How I first Saw the Sun-Burst — 
Liverpool to Dublin — Irish Cabins and Character — About Dublin, 
Glasnevin Cemetery, and O'Connell's Tomb — To Killarney by Kil- 
dare, the Bog of Allen, and Mallow — The Lakes of Killarney, by 
Boat and Jaunting-Car, with the Story of the "One Fenian in 
Kerry " — Killarney to Cork and Queenstown 366 



xii CONTENTS, 

XXX. 

Shiverings on Shipboard. — Once More on the Inman Steamsliips — A 
Glance at the National Line — Commodore Kennedy, and what ho 
wanted of the Governor — Company on Board — A. Bit of Iceland — 
The Commodore's Smoked Herring — The Eeturn-Eun, Captain 
Brooks, and Rough "Weather — How they used the Governor — 
Death and Burial at Sea — Conclusion Page 385 



PREFACE. 



There is a certain often-quoted work, of whicli " Chap- 
ter XI., on the Snakes of Ireland," contains only a single 
sentence : " There are no snakes in Ireland ;" and the prin- 
cipal employment of this preface is to say that: 1st. No 
preface is necessary ; 2d. The writer is not going to supply 
any; 3d. He has put it in the body of the work; 4th. 
What follows here is not a preface, but an appendix ; 
5th. The reader, after perusal, is at liberty to doubt 
whether this is here at all, as it is written under serious 
intention of omitting it altogether. But if it should not 
chance to be omitted (and that may be considered pos- 
sible, in the event of perusal), only this is to be said: 
That the writer has considered certain books on the French 
Exposition, by American writers, inevitable. That most 
of them will be very bad, and even an atrociously bad one 
mtay pass in the doubtful muster ; while he will have the 
advantage as to originality, and the disadvantage as to 
opportunity of " appropriation," of being among the first 
in the field. That he may also hope to escape condem- 
nation, under the smoke of people being less tired of the 



xiv PREFACE. 

subject when they read his work than when they peruse 
some of the later and better. That he has found the task 
a difficult one, but pursued it faithfully, even if oddly and 
fragmentarily and by no means so thoroughly as the grav- 
ity of the subject may have demanded. That he has not 
stolen the title, " Paris in '67," from any of the English 
books using it during the summer as a catch-word ; as the 
records in the District Court of Southern New York will 
show that he announced the work and copyrighted the 
title something more than seven months ago. That, a part 
of the work having been written at midsummer, and the 
balance in autumn, a slight incongruity in tenses may be 
discovered, for which an apology might be necessary from 
one of apologetic habit. That the opinions expressed are 
individual, and generally as honest as the present vitiated 
state of society will permit. And that, after being de- 
layed much beyond original intention, the work is at larst 
issued somewhat hurriedly, with the praiseworthy inten- 
tion of getting it out of the way (as the trundler of a 
wheelbarrow might choose to be with a railroad train ap- 
proaching) of that necessarily-valuable official report on 
the Exposition, which it is imderstood that Mr. Commis- 
sioner Charles B. Seymour will submit to the American 
public at an early period. 

New York City, Oct., 1867. 



PARIS IN '67. 



ABOUT THINGS IN" GENERAL, AND THINGS INTRO- 
DUCTORY IN PARTICULAR. 

At Interlaken, heart of the Bernese Oberland, the first 
words of this book. 

At Interlaken, where the magnificent snowy brow of 
the Jungfrau is flung skyward, as if to type human energy 
and audacity, and where the clouds that ever and anon 
vail her presence serve to type correspondingly human 
en'or, ignorance, and vacillation, — at Interlaken, most 
glorious goal of a pilgrimage gemmed with notable 
sights and pleasant recollections, — the commencement at 
once of work and apology. 

I have promised — I, the Governor — to write of the great 
French Exposition of 1867, of its surroundings, and of 
some of the many excursions induced and made possible by 
it. The most natural of promises, in the light of kindness 
so lately bestowed upon a kindred work ("Over Sea; or, 
England, France, and Scotland, as seen by a Live 
American ") ; and yet the rashest, when the scope of the 
undertaking is considered. Never has a year dawned 
upon the world, more fertile of temptations to the venture- 
some pen ; never has one induced more bad writing, or 
1* 



16 PAEI8 IN '^1. 

offered better excuse for failure to rise to the level of 
a given subject. 

Those dangerous advisers, Partial Friends, kind enough 
to express satisfaction with the previous venture, and 
especially gratified with the freedom of remark therein 
indulged, hazarded this incitement : " Of course you will 
see the great French Exposition, and give us the results 
of your observation, with the same freedom." So sug- 
gested, rather than inquired, Partial Friends, by no means 
the easiest of tempters to be resisted. 

"Paris in '67" is destined to be the result — a bit of 
patchwork, in the gathering of materials for which, and 
commencing to place them in more or less evident relation 
to each other, there have been trouble, toil, weariness, 
anxiety, discouragement, and yet interest and amusement 
sufficient to compensate ten times the outlay in either 
direction. 

I have committed one serious error, and am well aware 
of the fact. I should have heeded Brinsley Sheridan and 
Sydney Smith, the former of whom suggested to his son 
Tom, that "he could have told about going down into a 
coal-pit, quite as well without doing any thing of the kind," 
while the latter reasonably proclaimed the folly of reading 
a book before reviewing it, because such a proceeding was 
sure to create a prejudice. With the aid of Galignani, a 
map of Paris, the plentiful pictures of the Exposition, the 
innumerable catchpenny guide-books of the English for 
the present season, and the really brilliant descriptive 
epistles from the pens of American correspondents resi- 
dent abroad during the current summer, I might have 
emulated the able French author who wrote the best of 
books on America (" Paris en Amerique ") without ever 
crossing the Atlantic, and produced a better book on the 
contemplated subject than is possible under present cir- 
cumstances. But I am unfortunately a sharer in that 



THIJSTGS IN" GENERAL, 17 

antiquated prejudice, leading writers uncultivated beyond 
a given point to dare the perils of acquainting themselves 
to a certain degree with their own topics, instead of trav- 
eling the safe and easy path of " adapting from the 
French." 

To a certain degree only, with most writers, especially 
with reference to the Exposition. It is safe to say that no 
man, commissioner or non-official, resident in the gay 
capital, and frequenting the Champ de Mars from the 
opening in April till the close in October or November, 
has made himself, or will make himself, acquainted with 
all the details of the wonderful gathering in and around 
the " great gasometer " (as the master-spirit has face- 
tiously designated it) ; and it is equally certain that nine- 
tenths of the body of visitors, among whom most of the 
writers may be reckoned, have caught no more compre- 
hensive view of it than could be obtained of any given 
town by sailing slowly over it in a balloon. To master 
the great event has been well-nigh impossible, even to the 
most diligent : most of us are not diligent, especially in 
Paris, and malgre the example of the " Industrious 
Fleas." 

But here comes my advantage. If I have erred in going 
to Paris at all, I have stumbled upon wisdom in finding 
the right time and the correct quantity of it. 

I have not taken Paris alone, or too much of it. I am 
not among the bored — as bored people there are, in con- 
nection with the Exposition : quite as thoroughly ennuied 
as ever men have been with harmless inanity, overgushing 
tenderness, or tOKJoiirs perdrix. To more than a few (the 
' observant visitor to Paris, of June or July, could read it 
in their faces), the passage over the Pont de Jena has 
become a terror, the Grande Porte a horror, and the great 
building itself a fiendish fascination that could no more be 
endured than escaped. The labyi'inths of products and 



18 PARIS I]^ 'Q7 

ameliorations of Tiuman labor, instead of becoming clearer 
to the eye by habit, have simply grown more tangled and 
confused as the eye grew wearier, just as 

Last night the full moon of midsummer was hanging 
over the Bernese Oberland — a cloudless fall moon, such as 
the dwellers up Lauterbrunnen and the Grindelwald say 
comes but seldom even to the luckiest. The silver light 
fell full on the white brow of the Jungfrau, making its 
piled snow a glory, and even bringing out the dark ravines 
below and eastward. Bat the eye was not content ; it 
must gaze longer and glass-assisted, to try if the fine out- 
lines of the day could not be duplicated. It did so, too 
eagerly and too long ; and directly that point was reached 
at which the visual organ gave way, and the imprudent 
gazer, stricken with sudden blindness, saw nothing what- 
ever. There are moonlight and snow-blinded Expositionists, 
I fancy, as I know that there are and have long been 
thoroughly tired ones, especially Americans, listening 
enviously to the plans of those who were " going home," 
and wishing that they too were under " sailing orders." 

The lucky are those who have swooped down upon the 
scene of France's gathering-in the products of a world, 
late enough to find the unsightly beams and packing-boxes 
of opening cleared away, and yet early enough to escape 
the yawns, weariness, and indescribably fade aspect of 
impending close. Happy the gatherers to a ball, always, 
^v}lo come after the music has assumed its place, and go 
away again before the lights have begun to burn low and 
the pallor of fatigue to assert itself on lovely faces; and 
something like this, of the midsummer visitor to the Great 
Exposition. 

For during the Juno and July of 1867, England, Franco, 
and half Europe have been all a-bloom with roses ; the 
golden grain has been just temptingly ripe on the harvest- 
fields of English Warwickshire and French Normandy ; 



TEII^GS IN GENERAL. 19 

Dot a leaf has hung withered on the clustering shrubbery 
of either land ; Hyde Park and the Bois de Boulogne have 
both answered back human beauty and elegance to the yet 
matchless luxuriance of nature, in what the fashionable 
world desio'iiates as the "heio;ht of the season;" kinsfs 
and emperors and corresponding Oriental potentates, their 
glory only for a moment shadowed by the cruel death of one 
of their number in a far-away Western land, have dazzled 
the public eye with their magnificence, ridden amid plumed 
squadrons, given receptions from velvet-carpeted daises, 
and distributed rewards yet richer than the smiles of 
jeweled beauty that accompanied them. Nature and 
humanity have been matching if not rivaling splendors ; 
the center of all this, for the time, as never before or 
elsewhere since the first gathering of men, has been Paris; 
and thus, and only thus, have the great event and its sur- 
roundings fiitted before the eye of the Governor, commis- 
sioner self-appointed and very much unpaid — thus, with 
no tint lost of its color, no leaf faded from its chaplet. I 
should have seen it as women (they say) love to be seen — 
at the best: it remains to be found whether I have the fatal 
faculty of distilling poison from delicacies and showing it 
at the worst. 

Meanwhile comes this apparently-awkward question from 
one of those methodical souls ; — 

" The wonderful man with mechanical eyes, 



Who counts you the plumes on the wing of a midge, 
And who, passing over the Bridge of Sighs, 
Only thinks of the size of the bridge ;" 

*' Governor, if you were only in Paris during so brief a 
period, how is it possible that you can have caught any 
glimpse of each of several different events of peculiar 
interest which occurred with so much lapse of time be- 
tween ? How shall you tell us of these ?" 



20 PARIS IN '67. 

To whicli I reply tbat,^rs^, potentates are far less in- 
teresting objects than the scenes amid which they move, 
and that I am the slowest of tuft and lion hunters ; that, 
second^ some of my dear little familiars, handsomer and 
with better opportunities for entree than myself, may have 
been present at the most notable of all the royal pageants, 
and able to whisper into my ears the most interesting of 
accounts thereof, all the more satisfactory because not 
too often repeated ; and that, thirds I have the liberty of 
extract (and shall use it) from some of those " best things " 
that have fallen at intervals from the pens of newspaper 
correspondents. Shall not all these suffice ? 



n. 

WHAT "PARIS m '67" IS DESTINED TO BE. 

The great charm of book-writing, at the present day, 
consists in the blessed privilege of not knowing at the 
commencement what is to be the end of the literary journey. 
Burns struck the key-note of this privilege, long ago and 
inimitably, in his notification with reference to a certain 
poem then only half elaborated — that 

" Perhaps it might turn oiit a sang. 
Perhaps turn out a sermon •" 

and there are those living who well remember the recipe 
of a certain popular female novelist for arranging the plot 
of a romance: "Take a couple of lovers, a suffering saint, 
and a villain or two ; start them out, and allow them to 
go their own way. Depend upon it that they will get 
into worse scrapes than you could devise for them, and 
awaken interest enough before they are through !" The 
good lady has more followers than would like to acknowl- 
edge the obligation ; and the Governor is one of them^ — 
one of the " unattached cadets," a species of eclectic camp- 
follower. Any attempted abridgment of this liberty of 
literory laziness would create a rebellion more threatening 
in its consequences than any past emeute of the century. 
Let us have our little privilege of trifling along the road 
to Nowhere or Anywhere, and we may be content with 
slender fare and even endure the torture of worn feet : 
narrow us to a certain line, and we shall be discontented 



22 PARIS IM '67. 

with the most velvety of paths and sicken with the most 
savory of wayside lunches. 

Perhaps the nearest guess of what "Paris in '67" is 
intended to be, may be caught by noting what it must 
not be. 

Who wants a dry book of travel, principally made up of 
bald description, catalogues of inanimate objects, and com- 
ments upon things familiar to the eye of the veriest tyro 
among tourists ? And who is anxious for extended relations 
of personal adventure, when the adventure is likely to bo 
either a pure invention or even more insignificant than the 
writer, about whom nobody cares the value of a brass far- 
thing? Can any thing be less appetizing than the lugubrious 
and the sentimental, as applied to the works of nature and 
their feebler rival, the works of art ? And yet is not the 
sublime of impropriety more effectually reached in over- 
strained wit and far-drawn humor, striving to impart vitality 
to that which has no spark of its own ? Decidedly the field 
is narrowed from those days when the few traveled and 
the still fewer wrote ; and in the latter half of the nine- 
teenth century, however patient the cycles preceding — the 
dry matter-of-fact traveler, who counts and measures 
every thing ; the egotistical traveler, who meets with an 
astounding mole-hill adventure every day; the traveler 
with a high moral purpose, who preaches volumes of 
sermons from a falling leaf or the chipped nose of a 
statue ; the practical traveler, who calculates the water- 
power of every cataract, and measures the area of wheat 
that might have been grown on the site of an unnecessary 
church ; and the smart traveler, who goes abroad to dis- 
cover new fields for a wit exhausted at home, and extracts 
guffaws from gravestones and bad puns from belfries — all 
these are voted nuisances, with better reason than usually 
attaches to such wholesale condemnation. 

What then ? Shall the scribbler be debarred from 



WRAT IT IS TO BE. 23 

rambling ? — or shall lie only be allowed to ramble, under 
bonds to keep the peace toward society by preserving 
silence as to his observations or adventures ? ISTo ; the 
favorite resource of the century, brought into use when 
Sara Slick presented his twelve jurymen with twelve pieces 
of chalk, that they might add up their verdicts and divide 
by twelve for the result — this comes into use at such a 
juncture. Let us corrqwomise. What if a little of each 
of the blemishes before indicated should be involved, so 
that in each instance another hides it from view or tones 
down the general effect ? So let us be dryly descriptive, 
here; didactic and ponderous, there; anon as egotistical 
as if the world cared for our welfare or whereabouts; 
again lugubrious enough to disgust the most sublimated 
descendant of defunct Laura Matilda ; and yet again so 
atrocious in perversions of wit and humor, that the ghosts 
of poor Tom Hood and our own lately-lost Artemus will 
shudder together from their opposite sides of the world. 
The one may palliate the other, if not excuse it : the dish 
may be made appetizing (who knows ?) through the very 
incongruousness of its ingredients. 

The rambles of 1867, involving the Paris Exposition and 
the excursions incited and made possible by it, have been 
by no means impersonal, as aching head, wearied limbs, 
and depleted purse, have all first or last borne witness : at 
times the personalities must protrude themselves, especially 
when other interest fails ; again, they will sink away and 
be forgotten, when the historical, the grandly-natural, or 
the beautifully-artistic arises to dwarf all single identities. 
A trifle of information ; something of amusement ; a little 
relation of personal adventure ; a modicum of reflection 
and comment ; — all this is intended to be briefly conveyed, 
as indefinite in compounding and as irresponsible in final 
direction, as are the floating clouds at this moment vailing 
and unvailing that queenly brow of the Virgin Mountain. 
2 



24 PARIS IN '67. 

As for that portion of the work dealing exclusively with 
the exhibition which gives it name : 

The official catalogue of the Exposition makes a thou- 
sand octavo pages, with only a line or two devoted to the 
contributions of each exhibitor ; the Exposition itself 
gathers something from each of nearly all the countries of 
the globe, and stretches over a farm-space of more than an 
hundred acres; half a world has "assisted" at it, first or 
last, in one way or another ; the very list of awards sup- 
plies a volume of formidable dimensions ; the descriptions 
and comments rendered necessary by it have half-monopo- 
lized the press of civilized nations for the better portion of 
a year. What, then, shall be done with such a subject, in 
the thin compass of such a volume? What the practical 
housewife does with the lacteal product of her dairy-pans 
— sJchn it ; with the comforting reflection that when the 
process is accomplished, the more precious portion of the 
whole will have been secured. 

Even the problem of how to skim might have seemed a 
more formidable one, but for the publication of a certain 
"Practical Guide," during the current season convulsing 
European travelers, and in which explicit directions are 
given for seeing Paris thoroughly in one day^ on the prin- 
ciple of devoting five minutes to the Louvre, two to the 
Madeleine, half an hour of fast trotting to the Champs 
Elysees and the Bois de Boulogne, and " driving by " most 
of the notable buildings, so as to be able to record having 
" seen " them ! After that, what cannot be done in a mo- 
ment of time and an atom of space ? And after that, what 
cramped traveler shall despair of leisure or what ham- 
pered scribbler fear the printer ? 

A portion of this volume, limited in space but notable in 
interest, will be found specially devoted to certain Ameri- 
can contributions to the Great Exposition, which have 
struck the eye of careful research as most fitly typifying 



WHAT IT IS TO BE. 25 

our great material progress, and best showing how and why 
we, as a nation, have commanded the very highest respect 
of the world, and borne away a marked proportion of the 
official awards, with one of the very smallest contributions, 
• in point of scope and variety, supplied by any great people 
of the civilized globe. Of this, at length, in its proper 
place : attention is called to it, here, more by way of direct- 
ing that attention than as any apology for what is so 
obviously proper, even if out of the line of ordinary remark. 
But that melancholy comment over the grave of a cer- 
tain deceased savan whose failing body still out-lasted the 
over-wrought brain, is to be avoided : " Died of pursuing 
one idea." Too much of Paris and the Exposition might 
be as fatal to peace of mind, as the single study proved to 
the savan. Ninety-nine hundredths of visitors to the Ex- 
position, especially Americans, did not make it a single 
pilgrimage. Some loitered on the way over ; others have 
dallied, or are preparing to dally, on their return ; and it 
is worthy of note that even grave and responsible com- 
missioners, and gentlemen especially intrusted with some 
of the most important interests involved, suddenly de- 
camped Switzerland-and-Germany-ward within a few hours 
after the declaration of awards, leaving the delicately- 
varied music of the Tunisian cafe to delight other ears. 
That self-appointed commissioner, the Governor, has like- 
wise had his " little runaways " from the great event ; and 
no inconsiderable portion of this volume has the duty of 
recording what he saw and felt, suffered and enjoyed, 
through the Lake Country of "Western Engljmd, Coventry 
and the Shakespeare neighborhoods of Warwickshire, 
Switzerland and the Black Forest of Germany, London 
in the full " season," Killarney and the South of Ireland, 
in company and out of company with the Captain, Anna 
Maria, Young Hawesby, Lady Eleanor, and the Gipsy 
Queen. 



ni. 



ABOUT THE EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH, AND HIS 

WORK OF 1867. 

His Majesty the Emperor of the French has not given 
me the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor, albeit I was 
in Paris at the time when such decorations were flying 
about at an alarming rate ; nor do I know that if he had 
done so, covered as I am with other orders (from em- 
ployers), I should have found room to wear the desirable 
bauble once enjoyed by Lopez. But that strange neglect 
shall not prevent my prefacing the account of the creation 
of the world with some mention of its creator. 

It is a favorite theory, at the present day, that the tri- 
umphs of peace are more enduring than those of war, and 
that he builds best who builds with the hammers and 
spades of his people, rather than with their bayonets. A 
favorite theory, but only those seem to practice upon it 
who possess the best of excuses for holding the opposite 
faith. England has been the bull-dog of nations, always in 
arms, and winning and retaining more through the use of 
arms than all other nations combined ; yet England, ope- 
rated upon by the splendidly-practical and humanitarian 
mind of the late Prince Consort, opened to the nations, in 
1851, the world- wedding and humanizing system of inter- 
national industrial exhibitions, followed with a second, and 
supplemented with that magnificent private pendant, the 
Sydenham Crystal Palace. No ruler of the century has 
been held to need Mars as his right hand, to such an extent 



THE EMPEROR AND HIS WORK. 27 

as the present Emperor of the French ; none has been so 
long and constantly suspected of hostile designs in every 
direction ; none has been so watched and reprobated on 
that single score ; yet he it is who has taken the second 
great step in this international industrial progress, by 
originating and carrying out an exhibition to which the 
English was but a shadow. An anomaly, certainly; but 
what great event of this transition period is not an ano- 
maly ? 

Here follows a brief but decided expression of a delibe- 
rate opinion : 

Tlie Emperor of the French^ in the JExposition o/'1867, 
has done a great xoorh for his people^ for the world^ and 
for his oion enduring reputation. 

This position is either denied, or so modified that no 
personal credit remains, on many hands : is either the 
denial or the modification warranted ? Let the under- 
valuations be briefly taken up in succession. 

What if, as alleged, the design of the Exposition, on 
the part of the Emperor, may have been the wish to pre- 
serve, for the time being, the threatened peace of Europe? 
Shall not that motive be held most creditable, the supposed 
opposite of which, on his part, has been continually repro- 
bated and feared as the most fatal of personal foibles ? 
What if, even, that anxiety was only a thing of the pre- 
sent, because France lacked readiness for the impending 
conflict ? Has a ruler a more sacred duty than to look to 
it that his nation fights only when j)repared, if it fights at 
all ? What if, again, absolute apprehension of a rebellion 
against his personal rule, may have induced his presenta- 
tion of this temporary employment to the French mind and 
hand ? Granted the fact of the present possession of 
power, and the supposed fear of its loss, what more laudable 
characteristic could be shown by a ruler, than the wish to 
still sedition with industrial employment and profit, rather 

2* 



28 PARIS IN '67. 

than to repress it with the sword and the prison-bolt? 
What if, again, his predominant motive may have been the 
enriching of the purses of Parisian dealers, and the amelio- 
ration of the momentary financial condition of all France, 
through the attracting thither of the purses of all the 
world? Since when has monetary providence for his 
people been held a weakness or a vice on the part of a 
governing mind ? What if, yet again, the desire to make 
other monarchs visit his capital and revolve like satellites 
in the dazzling sphere of his hospitality, may have largely 
influenced the enterprise ? What else than this feeling, in 
one development or another, induces every brilliant re- 
union in the fashionable world, or even leads to the hum- 
blest of tea-drinkings — affairs that the world is as yet by no 
means ready to decry as corrupt or vicious? And what, 
finally, if a doubt of permanent position yet achieved, and 
a lust for enduring name in the future history of the time, 
may have principally moved the monarch who saw a late 
and perhaps a last opportunity ? Since when have the 
great names of history been specially faulted, or even under- 
valued, for the indulgence of that noblest of all the weak- 
nesses of human nature, when no reprobation, but rather 
applause, was due to the means which they employed for 
indulging that lust of fame ? 

Decidedly, to the cosmopolitan mind of any nation, the 
indictment against the originator and promoter of the great 
enterprise falls to the ground ; while the magnificent re- 
sult remains to take its trial as to success or failure, perfec- 
tion or weakness of detail. 

" The Exposition is a total failure !" was the cry princi- 
pally conveyed to the public ear through the ad captandum 
utterances of newspaper correspondents, when the hurried 
opening of the First of April was just taking place, and 
when the collection and visitors (the writers included) were 
alike in confusion. No nation — so they said — had sent 



THE EMPEEOB AND EIS WORK. 29 

forward any representation of its industry or art, worthy 
of the name ; no such body of people as had been expected 
would visit Paris during the season ; every thing was costly 
discomfort ; the building was a disgrace to an architectural 
age, besides being certain to be untenable during the ap- 
proaching hot weather ; the wrong men had hold of the 
affair in every direction; the Emperor had again over- 
reached himself and made another immense blunder, and 
all would be found a disgraceful muddle. 

" The Exposition is a perfect and magnificent success !" 
has been the current cry, from corresponding quarters, at 
anytime since the First of May, when order began to emerge 
from chaos ; when visitors began to flock from all quarters 
of the globe, and when the expected titled satellites really 
commenced to revolve around the imperial orb. And 
" the Exposition is a perfect and magnificent success !" has 
since been echoed by a large proportion of visitors, espe- 
cially the fortunate winners of prizes, golden, silvern, bra- 
zen, scriptive and decorative ; while the principal counter- 
echo has come from non-visitors, from those gentlemen 
who " didn't care about the Frenchman who was exposing 
himself, and wouldn't send any thing !" and from that un- 
fortunate small minority overlooked in the distribution. 

Both cries, meanwhile, and in point of fact, may well 
have been taken with a grain of allowance : the Exposi- 
tion has never been a failure, or any thing approaching that 
appellation, from the opening day ; and there have cer- 
tainly been spots enough on the sun of even its noonday 
splendor, to make that word "perfect " scarcely allowable. 

One more generalization, and only one, seems to be in 
place here, and at this moment. 

The Exposition^ loith all its faults and short-comings^ 
is incomparably the greatest and grandest gathering of 
the works of human hands, that the loorld has so far ever 



30 PARIS IIT '67. 

beheld ; and the possibilities which it opens to that world, 
seem almost unlimited. 

The added position it gives to Napoleon the Third can 
scarcely be set dowQ in words, or calculated in figures. 
As a sovereign, it has shown him in corresponding glory- 
as magfnificent monarch and caterer for the interests of his 
people ; as an executrv^e superintendent, it has given him 
proud place, even in this day when executive ability is the 
ambition of so many leading minds of all the world ; even 
as a mere skillful advertiser of his own greatness, the 
splendor of his capital and the variety of his people's 
wares, he has achieved a pre-eminence quite as profitable, if 
less high-sounding. What he has himself managed in the 
affair, has evidently been well managed ; what he has in- 
trusted to others has shown that rarest of abilities which 
lies in skillful selection of agents. 

A wonderful, incongruous, harmonious, unsatisfactory, 
pleasing, involved and yet significant whole, the Great 
Exposition has spread over the Champ de Mars, and will 
spread in shadow over the pages of history, quite as im- 
perishable, in fact as well as in effect, as either Austerlitz 
or Waterloo, and capable of obscuring if not excusing the 
tragic criminal mistake of Mexico. 

It has brought the nations nearer together ; it has 
opened wider the eyes of knowledge as well as those of 
speculation ; it has gone at least one step towards fusing 
languages, the dissimilarity of which had been the worst 
of foes to human intercourse ; it has narrowed the seas by 
increasing the numbers crossing, and the facilities for over- 
leaping them ; it has shown all nations as well as the works 
of all nations, and the very habitations of all nations, to 
the eyes of all who would look upon the gathered wonder ; 
it has marked another era in human progress, and carried 
us all nearer to that goal of the future of a great age, 
which no man can measure, but to which all men look for- 



TEE EMPEROR AJSFD EIS WORK. 31 

ward confidently as blindly. This the Great Exposition 
has done ; and this (errors excepted, as say some of the 
mercantile people in their balance-sheets) — this is the 
round result of the Emperor's work of 1867. 

But something more of this and of its effects on tbe near 
future, in the papers following. 



IV. 



WHEEEABOUTS OF THE GREAT EXPOSITION— THE 
CHAMP DE MARS. 

iN'oNE of the innumerable visitors of the season to PariSj 
it is to be hoped, need to be informed of the whereabouts 
of the great gathering ; though it is not quite certain that 
a proportion of them, geographically inquired of by- 
anxious absentees, would be too capable of explaining the 
location of its site, its bearing by compass from what might 
be called the heart of the city, or even the name borne by 
tlie immense quadrangle thus honored. 

I think that he was not a dunce beyond parallel, whom I 
heard inquired of the other day on some of these points, 
at one of the stations down the Valley of the Rhone, after 
he had been spending a month in Paris, and half of it 
within the Exposition grounds, and who replied thus 
lucidly: "In what part of Paris is it? Oh, I can tell 
that easy enough, you know. You know where all the 
stunning big hotels are — no, you have never been in Paris, 
so that you can't know that. Well, you take a carriage at 
any of the big hotels, and ride about twenty minutes or 
half an hour — maybe not quite so much ; sometimes you 
cross the what's-its-name river — the Seine, you see a 
thundering big building, Avith lots of flags and fountains, 
and a beastly crowd of peoj^le around it, and there you 
are." 

At all events, stay-at-home travelers, even those who 



TEE CEAMP DE MARS. 33 

have visited Paris in former years, may need to be re- 
minded if not informed on some of these points. 

The Champ de Mars, site of the Great Exposition, lies on 
the southern or less populous side of the Seine, and at the 
western or down-stream end of its course through Paris, 
directly opposite the suburb of Passy (embracing the great 
entrance to the Bois de Boulogne), on the northwest, and 
diagonally opposite the Champs Elysees, the Place de la 
Concorde, the Tuileries, &c., on the northeast. On the 
point of being out of town, it bears about the same relation 
to the city that would be held by a New York pleasure- 
ground laid out on the upper edge of Murray Hill — say 
about the site of the Reservoir and the old Crystal Palace ; 
and the gentleman just quoted was right in giving the 
time by carriage, from the great hotel center around the 
Madeleine and the Palais Koyal, as from fifteen to thirty 
minutes. 

On the northwest the Champ is bounded by the Seine, 
with the Pont or Bridge of Jena crossing at its exact center ; 
on the northeast its length stretches down the Avenue de 
laBourdonnaye ; on the southeast the other end is covered 
by the Avenue de la Mothe Piquet and the immense build- 
ings (its whole width) of the Ecole Imperiale Militaire, once 
the West Point of France, now more barrack than school; 
and on the southwest the boundary of the second long side 
is the Avenue Suifren. Only a few hundreds of yards 
away, diagonally, at the southeastern comer, rises the great 
Dome of the Hotel des Invalides (of course under repair — 
possibly regilding — and disfigured by scafiblding, during 
this particular summer of 1867, when all eyes were to see 
it); the Civil and Military l^ormal Gymnasium almost 
touches the southwestern side of the quadrangle; while 
the Military Hospital (entirely distinct from the Invalides, 
as many do not suppose) holds corresponding position 

opposite the northeastern. 
2* 



34 PARIS IN '67. 

Standing at the Pont de Jena, and sweeping the eye 
over Paris proper, the great architectural points presenting 
themselves are the Arc d'Etoile rising high over all, a mile 
due northward ; the long and low, but magnificent Palais 
d'Industrie (place of the Exposition of 1863) thrusting up 
its tortoise back in the midst of the Champs Elysees, 
northeastward ; farther eastward the long fagade of the 
Tuileries and the Louvre, seeming to gird the whole thither 
side of the Seine with stoneAvork ; yet farther eastward 
and up the river, the two unrivaled square towers of ^NTotre 
Dame rising out of the confused mass of two or three miles 
of lower edifices; and half behind, southeastward, the 
Dome of the Invalides. A memorable view from a nota- 
ble position ; and yet one sinking into insignificance in the 
recollections of those who have paused on the other side 
of the Seine, on the heights descending to the Pont de 
Jena, and caught all these glories from that much higher 
level, with the Exposition building itself added as a crown- 
ing feature. That is a picture not easily forgotten. 

Such is the site of the Champ de Mars : now a few 
words of its origin and that of its name — the latter, very 
generally misunderstood. 

No trap is more specious or more difficult to be avoided 
than that which the French language sets for the super- 
ficial English reader of it (as does the English for the 
Frenchman), in the resemblance of words which really 
mean something very different; and of all the captures 
made by this trap, a thousand to one have been baited by 
that compound word — " Champ de Mars." " Mars," in the 
Latin derivations and in English, means the God of War ; 
the Champ de Mars has been almost exclusively used, 
within general knowledge, as a place of review for armies ; 
ergo, in the public mind, and without pausing to consider 
another meaning for the word, the " Champ de Mars " has 
been the Field of the God Mars— the *' Field of War." 



THE CHAMP DE MARS.- 35 

So far has this idea gone, that the Emperor, in a late decla- 
ration with reference to the past and future uses of the 
field, was understood by thousands to be making especial 
allusion to the name^ and to the propriety of changing it 
to the " Champ de la Paix," the " Field of Peace," while 
such a lingual idea in his mind was purely impossible. 

The Champ de Mars is simply the Field of March (no 
military pun intended on the latter word), just as it might 
have been the Champ de Janvier or Aout — Field of January 
or Auo-ust. And the name seems to have been derived from 
the great gatherings of the early French (or Frankish) 
warriors, under the Merovingian and Carlovingian dynas- 
ties, always held in March or May, and named as " Fields " 
accordinscly. 

The Champ de Mars has made its wonderful record 
rapidly, for it has no place in antiquity. Less than two 
hundred years ago it seems to have been a collection of 
dust-heaps — a sort of " dumping-ground" beyond the Seine 
from what was then " Paris " at all its western portion. 
Its existence as a public ground seems to have been de- 
rived from the Ecole Militaire at. its southeastern end, 
founded by virtuous Louis XV. about 1750, as a place of 
military training for those noble but not too brilliant youths 
who were thenceforth (by his edict) to crowd all plebeians 
out of the higher grades of the French armies. For this 
nascent West Point, the Champ was graded as a riding- 
school and place of parade. 

But the shadow of the Revolution loomed, and France 
was too wise (England never has been) to allow that edict 
to remain in force. The brawn and brains of the plebeians 
were wanted in the commissions as well as the ranks of 
the armies. The Ecole Royale Militaire became a cavalry 
barrack, and the Champ de Mars a Hounslow or Fifteen 
Acres for general military evolutions and public gather- 
3 



36 PARIS IN- '67. 

ings. Yery soon after it "began to be grandly historical, 
as the great convulsion ripened and bore bloody fruit. 

On the 14th of July, 1790, the Champ witnessed the 
most magnificent of all spectacles preceding the present, 
and one excelling it in many particulars, but more fruitless 
for good than this can possibly be under the most unfor- 
tunate of circumstances. The monarchy was falling, and 
there was an effort to be made for its preservation. The 
Champ de Mars was selected as the scene of the effort. 
(Malicious tongues, before referred to, have hinted that the 
effort of the current year was made for a like purpose, 
again by a falling dynasty ; but that is the merest specu- 
lation.) 

The Feast of the Federation, in which all France swore 
to be brethren, with the king as an elder brother, was 
called then in the Champ de Mars. The field was con- 
verted into a vast amphitheater, capable of containing half 
a million within the possibilities of sight ; and to accom- 
plish its remodeling, not only twelve thousand men 
labored for weeks, but, as the time approached and much 
remained to be done, priests, nobles, and even women, 
handled shovels and trundled wheelbarrows, while parties 
of relief from the suburbs marched in with flags and ban- 
ners. And when the great day came, Louis XVI. and his 
court occupied a lofty platform in front of the Military 
School (this season forming the Belgian Park), four hun- 
dred thousand people filled the raised sides of the amphi- 
theater, and sixty thousand armed federals surrounded 
the altar on which Lafayette laid the civic oath just re- 
ceived from the king, to be sworn to by the whole assem- 
bly with one shout, after Talleyrand (then Bishop of Autun, 
and nnsuspicious of ministerial fame) had concluded a 
grand mass, served by no less than three hundred priests. 
A glorious fraternization — to close in the blood of king 
and people, how soon ! 



TEE GEAMP BE MAES. 37 

For on the same spot, a year and two days thereafter 
(I6th of July, 1791), in the tumult following the unfortu- 
nate foiled flight of the king to Yarennes, Lafayette and 
Bailly, striving to disperse the crowd clamoring for depo- 
sition, fired (no doubt necessarily enough) on the crowd, 
after they had murdered two invalid soldiers under the yet- 
standing " National Altar," — and some hundreds of lives 
were sacrificed, giving the human wolf his taste of blood. 
There, two years later, Bailly paid with his blameless life 
for the crime of living in such an age. 

Then, with some minor events intervening, came the 
great days of the First Empire, and the Champ de Mars 
played a prominent part in the pageantry of those days 
when " Europe would have pomp and tinsel, and iSTapoleon 
gave them to her," as well says that splendid verbal mad- 
man who supplied us with the " ISTapoleon Dynasty." In 
the Champ it was that, in conjunction with innumerable 
reviews of the veterans who had won and were winning 
Europe, — three days after his coronation at Notre Dame, 
and on the verge of that wonderful campaign which pro- 
duced Ulm and Austerlitz, and made suppliants of two 
emperors, — Napoleon with his own hands distributed to 
the different corps the eagles which they were to bear to 
victory above their banners — some of the very eagles, 
alas ! which now stand tarnished beside his tomb in the 
Invalides. 

Another and a later pageant of the great Emperor — 
sadder, in the light of its broken promises. The Champ 
de Mars was then a " Champ de Mai," when on the first of 
June, 1815, during the Hundred Days, Napoleon pro- 
claimed the Acte Additionnel before marching to Waterloo, 
again distributed his eagles and received fealty. Another 
magnificent spectacle, this, and seemingly enthusiastic ; 
but it was hollow and melancholy; for, to quote the 
irreverent Victor Hugo, *' God was tired of Napoleon." 



38 PARIS IN '67. 

The Chaftip de Mars knew him no more, except as, in that 
weirdly-beautiful poem of Baron Teidhtz, before quoted 
by the same writer in another connection (" Over-Sea"), 
the ghost-emperor has ever since been holding there the 
" midnight review " of his shadowy columns. 

It was here that Charles X. dissolved the !N'ational 
Guard, when he could no longer trust them, a few days 
before the revolution of July, 1830; and it was here that 
Louis Philippe (who could trust them for a time) dis- 
tributed the colors to the same Guard, re-constituted, soon 
after his accession. And here, passing by the fetes and 
reviews, and even the occasional horse-races which occu- 
pied it during the comparatively quiet days of the Citizen 
King, — here it was that yet another eagle distribution took 
place, when Napoleon the Third proclaimed the Second 
Emjjire, in 1851, and became the special heir of his great 
uncle's strengths, weaknesses and traditions. 

Here it was that, in the summer of 1865, X, the Gov- 
ernor, saw the most uninteresting, ill-shaded, ill-swarded, 
dusty, hot and uncomfortable parade-ground that had ever 
fallen under my notice — so blindingly and chokingly dusty 
that, as my cab rolled over it, I was obliged to close eyes 
and mouth against the rising cloud of chalky loam ; so 
tasteless, and without any redeeming point except immense 
size, that I could not avoid exclaiming as I left it : " Well, 
the Lord help any Frenchman who calls that a public 
ground, and is not ashamed of it!" 

Here it is that during this current season of 1867, 1 have 
seen the greatest collection of the industries and arts of all 
nations, that the world ever saw; a central wonder In 
architecture, more than matched by its surroundings of 
minor buildings showing the architecture and taste in 
dwellings, of all lands ; even these excelled by the taste 
in floriculture and arboriculture, which has made the 
whole little else than a dream of fairy land; and the 



THE CHAMP DE MARS, 39 

French Park, especially, the rival if not the superior of 
Versailles and the Royal Gardens of Kew. 

But of this latter feature, the filling and adornment of 
the grounds, something more at length in its due order 
and in another paper. 



Y. 



HOW PARIS "PEEPAEED TO EECEIYE BOAEDEES." 

Important events "have their petty details as well as 
their glittering generalities ; even the grandest army does 
not move without its ragged, dirty and disorganized camp- 
followers (unless, like Sherman's "bummers," they go in 
advance!). Paris, destined to be the scene of the great 
gathering, had a duty foreshadowed, and proceeded to fulfill 
it with desperate energy — the duty of receiving a visiting 
world, supplying it {a la Mugby Junction) with the least 
possible of comfort at the greatest possible price, and gen- 
erally combining the " profitable " with the " pleasant." 

Superficially, under the emperor's command, Paris 
washed its face and put on its Sunday raiment, very early 
in the event. Half-finished boulevards were pushed for- 
ward with even exceptional rapidity ; Baron Haussmann, 
it is probable, tore down fewer houses, and left fewer 
ragged chimney-ways exposed to sun and sight, than at 
any corresponding period since his assumption of the Pre- 
fecture ; obstructing piles of stone and mortar became even 
unusually rare, and local deformities, generally, were cov- 
ered with a skill which would have excited the envy of the 
most accomplished female chamber-diplomatist; the dust 
commanded to lie still, and not ofiend the eyes and nostrils ; 
the trees to leaf (not leave) at their very earliest ; and thus, 
and in a thousand other nameless modes, was the great city 
garnished for the rush of new comers — as when the minis- 
ter's lady and a few other village notables are expected at 



''PREPARIira FOR BOARDERSy 41 

a country abode, on some pleasant afternoon " to tea," and 
swept door- ways, tidied-up rooms, white aprons, clean caps 
for the elders, and the washed faces of children, become 
the most easily distinguishable features of the occasion. 

But all this comprised only a tithe of the labor of prepa- 
ration. In a local romance of not many years ago, the morn- 
ing exordium of a certain general-dealer in a small way, to 
his second in command, was said to be : " John, sand the 
sugar, plaster the flour, water the liquors, mark up all the 
dry goods twenty per cent., and then come in to prayers !" 
Paris, as a careful and prudent city should have done, per- 
formed all the other requirements without going in to 
prayers. 

Everybody, who has ever been to Paris, knows that 
there are no "houses" in it — indeed none in France, the 
English and American (and even the German) acceptation 
of the word being taken as the standard. The French 
"lodge" — no more; it is doubtful whether all of them 
even do so much, of what is generally considered "living." 
They have no privacy, comparatively, and seem to desire 
none. Their food is eaten on the sidewalk, in front of some 
cafe, or in the cafe itself, with the doors and windows 
open, and laughter, rattling of spoons and plates and clink- 
ing of glasses, not only attracting but seeming to invite 
observation. 

A consequence of this, or perhaps a part of it, is that the 
Frenchman does not desire much special privacy in even 
the household details of living, outside of the food ques- 
tion. The idea that one should prefer to have an outer 
door into which no other family than his own should come, 
except as visitors, is not half so likely to enter his head as 
that of a new frippery in foshion, a new war, or a new 
barricade. Except in the mansions of the very rich, there 
are few " sej^arate houses " in the French territories. 
Wealth and comparative poverty — often great wealth and 



42 PARIS IJSr '67. 

abject poverty — assured position, and position worse 
than doubtful, enter at the same outer door, are served by 
the same concierge (porter), ascend the same lower escalier 
(stair-way), and have their household smoke make exit by 
the same chimney ; the only perceptible difference being 
(to an outsider, and supposing a very possible case), that 
'■'•milorcV lodges au deuxieme, and pays a round price for 
his accommodation; that Mons. Pinchot, the small mer- 
chant, has his tenement au troisieme^ and pays a rent con- 
siderably diminished ; that Parbleu, the mechanic, is loca- 
ted au quatrieme^ and still falls in rent as he rises in alti- 
tude ; that possibly Mile. Florine, of the demi-monde, but 
comfortable therein, comes au cijiquieme, paying still a 
shade less than her next lower neighbor (though the fact 
may be that she and Parbleu change places) ; that Nanine 
comes next, au sixieme — a grisette of the actual type, still 
struggling for labor and respectability, and making the 
pot boil on very, very little, in rent, dietetically and sarto- 
rially; and that au septlane^ up among the chimney-pots, 
the swallows, the tiles, moss, and occasional sunshine, 
old mother Gringoire, the chiffoniere, crawls to her garret, 
crust and rags. 

3Ions. Le Franpais and Madame sa feimne, if they 
chance to be so located that a small house is all their own, 
for business or other purposes, have correspondingly small 
objection to breaking the privacy of what we call a "floor," 
and they an " etageP What is it to them who enters or 
who departs, or w^hat (short of murder or coining — amena- 
ble to police discipline, and therefore troublesome to land- 
lords) goes on in the very next room to that in which they 
themselves repose, so that rent is duly paid, no proprieties 
are oj)enly outraged, doors are kept locked, and no awk- 
ward peep holes achieved ? They are not " their brothers' 
keepers," or eke those of their " sisters," in the detail of 
morals ; would the world be better or worse (the doubt 



''PREPARING FOR BOARDERS:' 43 

arises) if there were more persons like them in this par- 
ticular ? 

To what does all this tend ? To one of the points indi- 
cated in the opening of this paper — the readiness of Paris, 
individually and collectively, to receive lodgers, during 
the Exposition, and to yyiake the tnost of them ! To " lick " 
into "receptivity" anything in the shape of an unoccu- 
pied or half-occupied room, boudoir or pig-stye, from au- 
dessoifs to the very tiles, capable of taking in a bed and a 
wash-stand (not necessarily a carpet — carpets are not indis- 
pensable in the land of wooden " parquetrie ;" but woe to 
the wight, male or female, who forgets the necessary slip- 
pers and wanders thereon while dressing and undressing !) — 
capable of taking in those details, I say, and then and thence- 
forth " taking in," more or less in two senses, a certain 
number of the " outside barbarians " clamoring for admis- 
sion to the Parisian paradise. 

Do not let me be understood as intending to apply these 
terms of undervaluation to all Parisian lodging-houses, 
supplied during the current year or previously. Benevo- 
lent shades of Madame S and Mrs. D , respected 

furnishers of a2)pcirtenients meublees, in the past, the com- 
pleteness of which must have mollified the tempers of the 
most exigeant of icell-jjosted travelers (nothing could mol- 
lify the green-horn — he knows nothing, and so expects 
everything !) ; and yet more certainly forbid such an asper- 
sion, substantial but very pleasant matronly shade of dear 

Madame W , at whose cozy au qiiatrieme in the Rue 

Mazagran, under the round arch that looked so welcome 
when we came home late at night, tired and sleepy, from 
long rambles on the boulevards — the Captain and Anna 
Maria and the Governor passed some pleasant and memora- 
ble days and nights ! Were not your ''- appartements " clean 

and well-furnished and comfortable, dear Madame W ? 

Did not the waxed parquetrie shine like a sideboard, all 



44: PARIS /iV '6 7. 

the while ? — and were there not towels and napkins and 
water in abundance ? — and did you scruple to afford us 
that un-French commodity of supply, du savon, when we 
chanced to lack it for a day ? (some of us have lacked 
the other kind of " soap " many a day) — and were there 
any " bougies " charged for that we did not fairly con- 
sume? — and did Etienne (who fell in love with Anna 
Maria, and wanted to learn to talk a few words of English, 
so that he could express his admiration otherwise than by 
upturned eyes, so much) ever fail to bring us rolls that 
were flaky and eggs that were nascent, tea and coffee 
retaining their orientalism, and fruit that had not yet 
lost its memory of nature, for those savory, quiet little 
breakfasts and suppers ? — and was there ever a failure to 
meet a cheerful word from the old concierge at the gate 
below, or to find those keys on the proper hook of the 
key-board, and sometimes, what was better still, your 
own calm, benevolent, matronly face, and a good-will greet- 
ing not paid for or expected to be paid for, within the lit- 
tle double door of frosted glass, of the entresol f — and 
when one day we honored the moderate addition in the 
quiet parlor, and prepared to come away, was it not with 
a regret and a promise to come again, on the one side, and 
a warm invitation to do so on the other ? Were not all 
these things as I have stated them, good, considerate 

Madame W ? — and if they were so, are Parisian 

lodging-houses to be indiscriminately voted " nuisances " 
and their keepers "• harpies ?" Not " while this right 
hand retains " — not its " cunning," for it never had any — 
but its propensity for scribbling personalities ! 

Nay, was there not something more (and this with sad 
reverence) — something more, that invested that tidy white 
cap and the modest mourning symbols of your attire with 
a light like that which may have shone on the mourning 
Madonna ? — a romance of the bleeding heart of the mother, 



''PBEPARIIfa FOB BOAEDBRSy 45 

sacred in a Parisian lodging-house as if it had been wovea 
in a palace or conceived in a boudoir ? 

Did you not tell us of dear lost Celestine,. whose face 
we never saw, but imaged it thenceforth — how she clung 
to you and to herself, refusing marriage-offers that sought 
her " dot " and not her womanhood, until the master came 
and she wedded and went regretfully away from you? 
Then how she named the buildings and walks of her lit- 
tle German home, the " Louvre " and the " Madeleine " 
and the " Champs Elysees " of the Paris she had loved 
so well; and how she wrote you home such sweet, modest 
letters of regretful happiness ; and then how she was to 
visit you in the mingled glory of bride and mother, and 
you waited and watched for her so fondly ; and how then 
the letter came with its black seal, to tell you that the dar- 
ling daughter would visit you no more on earth, forever ! 

Ah, dear Madame W ! these, alas ! are real like the 

others ; the mourning, I know, will never go out from that 
faithful mother's heart, any more than the sombre hue from 
that garb or the tears from your eyes when you speak of 
her ! It is only a " chance-boarder " speaking poor words 
of comfort to a lodging-house keeper; but the orison will 
work you no evil : God comfort and bless you, and in his 
own good time give you a happy and an eternal meeting 
with lost Celestine ! 

But they were not all Madame W 's ; were they, 

good people from every land, making your temporary home 
in Paris during the summer of 1867? — and cannot you, as 
well as I, imagine how the individual desire for the rapid 
accumulation of wealth (something about which, of course, 
Americans know nothing, especially since the rebellion !) 
— how this must have been stimulated, at the opening of 
the Exposition, by the conduct of those in charge of 
that "show," letting out to the highest bidder, or the 
most subservient tool, the privilege of doing anything, 



46 PARIS IN '67. 

selling anything, or letting anything be done, in or around 
the building or park — from the retailing of soda-water or 
newspapers, to the blacking of boots, the carrying away 
of the likeness of any object through the aid of the photo- 
graph, or even the luxury of sitting down in a chair or on 
a bench, to rest the over-wearied limbs for a single 
moment ! 

Lest these latter details should seem like exaggeration to 
absentees, let me say, here, that more than one arrest was 
made of unfortunates who dared to be caught taking pho- 
tographic sketches of any particular object, without pay- 
ing roundly for the privilege (a proceeding unknown to 
Americans before or since the lately-decapitated and 
immensely-regretted War-Secretary Stanton " snapped " 
my good friends, the Gurneys, with a file of soldiers, for 
photographing the Lincoln obsequy decorations, in the 
New York City Hall), and that so conclusive and servile 
was the " farming out " of everything in and about the 
Palace, that even the right of the management to retain a 
single seat for visitors was disputed by those who had 
bought the " sitting privilege," and two or three hun- 
dred long settees originally provided and erected for free 
use in various parts of the building, taken up by force 
and pitched out into a waste corner of the Park, where 
they lay rotting during the balance of the summer, that — 
well, I will not mention and so advertise the contempti- 
ble name of the contracting firm — might manufacture dis- 
eases of the abdomen and coin money at their own sweet 
will.* 



* During the printing of this work another pleasant development has been made in 
the affair of seats at the Exposition, thus detailed in one of the foreign newspapers 
reaching America in September : — 

"An extraordinary scene was witnessed at the Exhibition on Friday, the 23d. At 
8 o'clock in tne morning the Imperial (vommission made its appearance with a pro- 
cession of carts and a few dozen crowbars, and without any warning carried off the 
chairs and tables which the proprietors of the cafes and restaurants had placed out- 



''TEEFABING FOR BOARDERS:' 47 

There are some other details of the " farming out " sys- 
tem that I have no idea of giving, out of respect at once 
to the moral and physical senses of readers ; but how long 
after this before we shall hear the next echo of abuse from 
European organs of opinion against the " disgusting Amer- 
ican worship of the almighty dollar ?" 

" Grab " (to use an expressive modernism, not in the 
dictionaries as a substantive) — " grab " was the official 
" game " — why should it not be that of the private indi- 
vidual ? Such another opportunity might not again occur 
during a lifetime ; and there were no doubt many Parisi- 
ans who remembered what King William of Holland, was 
charged for eggs during one of his royal progresses — a 
dollar each, not because eggs were peculiarly scarce, but 
because kings were ! " Hit him again, he has no friends !" 
and " Skin him, he is away from home and in our power, 
and we may never catch him again!" — the two mottoes 
sprung from the same source, and reflected equal credit on 
their originators. 

But here I have local aid, and let me use it — the aid 
of my friend the Old Corporal, a Xew Orleanian by birth, 
but a non-commissioned officer in the French army through- 



side their premises for the accommodation of the public since the opening of the 
Exhibition. Several violent tableaux took place. Immediately after the seizure the 
English restaurant-keepers stuck up outside a notice, which, not being to the taste 
of the Commission, was torn down by the police. They then closed their doors and 
stuck up another notice inside. This, however, was doomed to the same fate ; the 
police broke open the doors, and again tore down the objectionable placard. The re- 
sult of all this was that the majority of the caf6s and restaurants shut up shop for 
the day and the unfortunate public had to walk about athirstand hungry. And now 
for the 'cause of this remarkable proceeding: The Commission, which are deter- 
mined to make money anyhow, had given to M. D the right to place chairs 

round the building, notwithstanding that they had previously let to these same res- 
taurant and cafe keepers at an exorbitant sum the places they occupy. M. D 

complained that they had no right to place chairs outside their shops, the proprie- 
tors replied that they had paid for their space and ought to haA^e it. A lawsuit was 

the consequence, and M. D gained the day. Such is one of the good results of 

the system of monopoly invented by M Le Play." 



48 PARIS IJSr '67. . 

out both the Crimean and Italian campaigns, and for many 
of the intervening and succeeding years resident at Paris, 
with little to do and a wandering propensity which leads 
him through all kinds of doubtful streets and by-places. 
He supplies me with a little picture of what he saw and 
heard at about the opening of the Exposition, in the way 
of calculations and arrangements among the humbler indi- 
viduals who were to purvey transit for the host of new- 
comers, and especially for the expected rush of American 
" savages :" — 

" I was going," says the Old Corporal, " down one of 
the narrow but important streets just below the Bourse, 
and not far from the Rue Coq-Heron and the Poste Res- 
tante, one morning: late in March, when I chanced to have 
occasion to stop and rub a fusee for my cigar at a blank, 
white wall with double and single doors cutting it, and a 
little cart standing without, looking like one of those 
employed by a baker in a small way. Just as I rubbed 
the fusee the little door partially opened and a man stuck 
out his head, then left it half closed and went on with a 
conversation which had apparently been only for a moment 
interrupted. 

" ^ow I had no occasion whatever of listening to the 
words of this baker, for such his whitey cap and light 
clothes, as well as the cart without, proclaimed him to be ; 
and I certainly should not have done so, had I not caught 
the word ' Americaine !' pronounced with that hissing 
sound only known to a Frenchman when he is endeavoring 
to express the extremity of scorn and disgust. But I hap- 
pen to be an American to the backbone, in spite of all my 
years of French service, and, in spite of the fact, too, that 
I believe I belong to a section not recognized as ' part of 
the United States.' So I listened, and what I heard in 
guttural French you shall have in the best idiomatic 
Franco-English that I can furnish, except here and there a 



''PREPARING FOR BOARDERSy 49 

word that is untranslatable. I think you will recognize 
it as a fair indication of the rods that Johnny Crapaud was 
pickling for you, whether you have by this time received 
the benefit of his good intentions or not. 

" ' Americans ? why not T spoke the baker with a repe- 
tition of the hiss. * They are putting to the sale their log- 
cabins, to arrive at this civilized France ; and they come 
in vessels of the small cost, so as to have much money for 
their occasions here. It is for us of Paris — that money 
remaining in their pouches ; and it is the duty of that 
noble Mirabeau to cause to reach my pockets much of 
it.' 

" ' But there may not be so many of them,' I heard the 
other voice reply ; ' and then they may have horses in 
America, since to them visited the adventurous Lafayette 
— who knows?' 

" ' Not many of them ? Parhleu P hissed back the 
baker. ' They will be like the locusts of the Egypt in 
number ; and those savages are so ignorant that they do 
not recognize between a horse and an ass. What would 
you have ? I reassure you that they will ride at all times 
— these people of show and indolence — when once they 
arrive at a country of civilization, and that my horses that 
are not matched, of the Arabian breed ' 

'' ' Mille Tonnerres P the other broke out, impatiently. 
' They are skeletons, they are collections of bones ! They 
would create the good fortunes of a doctor who physicked 
that animal, because he would know the place of disposi- 
tion of every bone in their bodies ! I offer to you, as a 
great favor, the purchase of these fragments, at eight 
francs each, to boil them into glue and dog-sustenance, and 
you refuse ! You are most thick-headed, ray friend the 
baker !' This hissed out nearly as contemptuously as the 
words of the other had been, and informing me of what I 
had before suspected — that the baker's interlocutor was a 

3 



50 PARIS IN '67. 

knacker or buyer-up of worn-out animals for the glue fac- 
tories and dog-and-cat-meat shops, making overtures to 
relieve the other of what he did not feel inclined to sell. 
But the fury of the baker, after this outburst, was terrifi- 
cally French : — 

" ' Coquin of a horse-destroyer, you would devour me 
without holding pity for me afterward ! Behold in the 
day-hght one of the steeds of value that you defame! 
Though I throw away my words of importance on an asin- 
ine person, yet see what shall carry the American savages 
and other islanders, by the thousand at many times, at a 
franc and two francs each for the small distances, and many 
francs when they receive transportation to Versailles and 
St. Denis ! Allez^ Mirabeau ! my noble I come out here 
and be visible to those eyes that deserve you not !' 

" Suddenly, and before I, horribly fascinated by the inter- 
esting conversation, could retreat so as to avoid being seen, 
the larger door dashed open, and the baker, little, weazen- 
faced and grimacing, emerged, dragging by the bridle his 
Kosinante, while the irate and disappointed knacker yet 
stood within what I now saw to be part barn, part stable, 
and the remainder wagon and lumber room. 

"But what language shall describe this bit of horse- 
flesh, intended for transatlantic delectation otherwise than 
through the medium of the table ? Fully of age, to all 
appearance (^^e., twenty-one years and over) ; a color that 
had once been bay but was now dirty yellow where the 
lead-colored weals did not supply a ' neutral tint ;' one eye 
gone and the other * cocked,' as if strabismus had suddenly 
invaded the equine family ; the head long as a flour-barrel 
and ' sprung' like the double curve of a scythe handle ; the 
hips protuberant and each ' knocked,' sore, and ghastly ; the 
ribs convenient for counting, but the galls too numerous 
for that exercise ; both fore-knees sprung, and one fore- 
foot 'clubbed' to the dimensions of elephantiasis — such, 



''PREPARING FOR BOARDERS:' 51 

feebly depicted, was the remarkable equine production — 
certainly something that could have been sent to the zoo- 
logical department of the Exposition without doubt of 
receiving one of the prizes for ' extreme rarity and unique 
qualities !' You have some gallant steeds in New York, 
harnessed to the classical clam-cart and alleged to cost fifty 
cents to two-fifty each at the Second Avenue and Fifty- 
Fourth Street Tattersalls ; exaggerate the worst of them 
that can stand erect without propping, by say fifty per 
cent., and then you may form some idea of my discovery 
in natural history, though a slight one. 

" The knacker was confounded — I could see that he was, 
though I do not presume to say whether he was vanquished 
by the splendid points of the animal and the shame of 
having offered to devote such a marvel of equine beauty 
to the shambles of his trade, or by the horrifying reflection 
that he had risked being obliged to pay eight francs there- 
for ! At all events he was silent, only uttering a single 
' Humph,' which may mean anything, with a Frenchman ; 
and, ignoring my presence, the baker grew more voluble 
as the other ' subsided :' — 

*' ' Delay yet for some moments !' he rather squealed 
than spoke. ' You have imagination that I shall be com- 
pelled to the purchase of a voiture for the conveyance of 
those foreign canaille. Behold, with complete prepara- 
tion !' And with the native celerity of a Frenchman, one 
moment sufiaced him to hitch the end of the halter in the 
wheel of the cart, to dash through the door and emerge 
again, shoving out a vehicle which went far beyond the 
horse in the way of ' beggaring description.' 

" This wonder in vehicular architecture had been a cart, 
in or about the days of Charles the Tenth (I do not think 
that it could have seen the First Empire), and no doubt at 
that early period it had enjoyed the distinction of paint ; 
but any such disguise had long ago been worn away by 



52 PARIS IN '67. 

rain, and cracked away by sun, and powdered away by 
the cream-colored dust of French roads, until the original 
hue was undiscoverable. It had high sides, with open 
upper rails ; and ' raking ' end-boards, like those of a Vir- 
ginia market-wagon ; and the ' near ' rail had been broken 
but neatly mended with a wrapping of fishermen's twine. 
The wheels were clumsy enough to have done duty under 
a twenty-four pounder, and dingy enough to have gone 
through McClellan's campaign on the Chickahorainy. For 
top, it had four bows, or hoops, with dirty white canvas 
loosely suspended over them ; one of the side-curtains 
slitted, but ' repaired,' apparently with rope-yarns ; and I 
was pleased to see that uniformity had been kept up by the 
mending of abroken thill with a bit of iron hoop wrapped and 
nailed around it. For seats there were two boards run along 
the sides, lengthwise, with a strip of dirty carpet over each ; 
and from the place where had once been a tail-board, now 
•removed, depended a small step-ladder, lashed fast with a 
rope, at the bottom step of which the female * guard' was 
intended to stand, do the screaming for fares and receive 
the ' argent.' 

" Ornament, specially so designed, this stupendous ve- 
hicle had none ; but its absence was atoned by a legend 
in dauby black on a dirty white board hanging along the 
rolled-up centre curtain : "Service Special de F Exposition." 
And then, to my thinking, as evidently to that of its own- 
er, the affair was complete. 

"^Voilaf pig! coquin/ mechantP squealed the baker, 
after allowing a moment's inspection of the wonder, con- 
joined with the animal fated to draw it. ' You would 
venture to suggest having me make disposal of my noble 
horses, would you, after seeing this voiture of preparation 
which shall comfort the savages of Americans and cause 
to arrive to me much wealth ! Sacr-r-r ! I could do my- 
self a violence, to think that I have been insulted thus ! 



''PREPARIN'G FOR BOARDERS:' 53 

Go, pig of a glue-maker, and remember that I shall be 
dangerous when reaches me the next insult to the dignity 
of my menage P 

" The knacker did go, I am of opinion, without further 
interlocution. 7" did, at all events, while the irate baker 
was dragging back 'Mirabeau' and running back his cart 
— myself pondering, the while, on the pleasant prospects 
opening to the ' American savages and other islanders ' in 
the way of transportation and probably of many other de- 
tails of ' life in Paris.' " 

It must have been, I think, from some such actual ob- 
server as the Old Corporal, that a graphic New York Tri- 
hime correspondent (probably the ubiquitous " G. A. T.") 
who described the Opening in that journal, derived the 
data for his capital imaginary scene in a Parisian lodging- 
house, at about the same period — which must be quoted 
as a (better) companion-piece to the reality just sup- 
plied : — 

" How flushed and expectant grew the light and vola- 
tile Parisians, as the day of dedication drew near ! Taxes 
were heavy and trade was little. The strangers should 
make money plentiful. They were mere savages, indeed, 
who spoke gutturally, like hogs and horses, but France was 
too polite to show the disdain she felt, and so the price of 
lodgings went up one hundred per cent. You could hear 
your true Frenchman — who has no notion of geography — 
talking thus in the gate-keeper's room of his 7naison 
meublee, any evening. 

'■''^3Ia foil Nina, we must give all our boarders the 
C07ige. These English and other Kamschatkans are coming 
to Paris by droves. How much did I say that the entresol 
should let for ?' 

" ' A thousand francs,' says !N'ina, ' we got two hundred 
for it.' 

" ' JSToni de Dieu ! — it shall be fifteen hundred. Behold, 



54 PARIS IN '67. 

is it not the most spacious of its kind, barring the seven 
elbows, the defective flue, and the rats ? Yes, Nina, it 
shall be fifteen hundred. These Americans .and Siberians 
know nothing of [the value of] money !' 

" ' How do they get so much, I wonder ?' says Nina. 

" ' Oh, parhleu! they dig it. Cochones P ^ 

" ' It would be a good place to marry our little daugh- 
ter, Cocotte !' 

" ' Jamais P cries the gate-keeper, ' what ! to an Amer- 
icaine — a savage like that — that she may wear a ring in 
her nose, ride a camel, and keep house in an iceberg ! The 
entresol shall be set down at fifteen hundred, and after to- 
day the price of the table dliote shall be ten instead of 
three francs.' " 

I am happy to assure the Old Corporal, as well as the 
Tribune correspondent, that the best (!) anticipations of 
both were realized. From the highest to the lowest (with 
a few honorable exceptions of which there has been or 
will be occasion to speak) — from the dealer in diamonds 
at the Palais Royal to the huckster of small wares along 
the dead-walls and blind-alleys — from the marchand des 
soies on the boulevards to the old woman who peddled 
porte-monnaies and paper in the back streets leading off 
from the He de la Cite — from Hawse, of the splendid livery 
turn-outs of the Rue Marignan, to the merest " one-horse " 
liveryman outside the " remise " regulations of the police 
— from the proprietors of the Grand Hotels d' Overcharge, 
on the boulevard, and De Graball, on the Rue Rivoli, — 
all and every one of the Parisian dealers, with the few 
honorable exceptioris, took warning from the supposed 
brevity of the season and the prudential example set them 
at the Exposition, and made immense quantities of hay 
while their little sun was shining. 

I saw fifteen francs each paid by two persons per day, 
for mere lodgings in the same little room in the Hotel 



''PREPAEIj:^0 foe BOARDERSy 55 

d'Overcharge, an qiiatrienie^ for which St. Edward and 
the Governor paid four francs each during the Exposition- 
less, but much more comfortable, Parisian summer of 
1865 — an advance of onl}^ about three hundred per cent. 
I saw the Hotel de Gripemclose, on the Rue de Fuss-and- 
feathers, obliged to keep to old prices for the sake of re- 
taining custom, set such meagre tables that the habitues 
would have become Calvin Edsons if they had not resorted 
to restaurants between meals already paid for. I saw 
^'' appavtements meublees'''' raised to from twice to three 
times their former price — no luxury or comfort added, and 
the attendance not so good as of old; I saw thousand 
upon thousand of American dollars spent for silks, stuffs, 
bijouterie and gimcracks, because such things used to be 
" cheap at Paris," and orders had been given or promises 
made, when so high had the temporary extortion reached 
that they could have been bought cheaper (duty and 
freight out of the calculation) in ISTew York of the lost 
conscience ; and I saw so many other things of the same 
character, and so wearying to the public patience, that, 
call Paris in '67 an unexceptionable Paradise who will, I 
claim the privilege of adding to the picture a small corner 
of Purgatory. 

And I have an especial word of comfort to- the Old 
Corporal. His cart was out in service, and I rode in it — at 
least I rode in Avhat might have been his special " rattle- 
trap," with the "noble horse;" while there were plenty of 
similar ones to keep it in countenance, in the midst of the 
really excellent conveyances provided for transit between 
the Bourse and the Exposition, the Palais Royal and the 
Exposition, the costly carriages of wealth and nobility, 
and the handy cabs that were sometimes to be found 
when wanted, in going to or coming from the " great 
show." 

Anna Maria, I think, will remember that particular 



56 PARIS IN '67. 

" voiture." Hot was the afternoon, and weary with much 
exercise were the legs (at least the male ones — I have no 
license to speak authoritatively of the others), when one day 
we strolled Exposition-ward uj^ the right bank of the Seine 
from the Palais d'Industrie. Anna Maria eventually sug- 
gested " a carriage." Carriage or cab, there was none in 
the neighborhood. Anna Maria suggested " an omnibus " 
— omnibus passing in that direction came not within the 
line of vision. The hot sun of July was beating upon the 
head, and despair and incipient sunstroke began to appal 
the heart. At length came into view the Old Corporal's 
cart, or some one of its kidney — wheels, top, curtains, 
thills, " Exposition '' placard, all as that graphic artist has 
painted them — creeping along at the pace of two miles the 
hour, and horse-destroying even at that speed. A frowsy, 
unbonneted termagant held place on the lower step, and 
screamed: "^ V Exposition! Venez^ messieurs et mesdames ! 
Jl V Exposition ! Cinquante ce7itimes sexdement /" On 
the front, supplying the necessary and no small modicum 
of belaboring, rode what I now religiously believe to have 
been the weazen-faced baker; and on the seats were 
ranged half a dozen, more or less, of the capped and 
bloused denizens of the Faubourg St. Antoine, their faces 
half dirt, and the other half eager expectation of the great 
treat in store. (It is worthy of -note, if my suspicion 
of the identity should be correct, that monsieur le hour 
langer had come down a shade in his anticipated prices, 
and that the "American savages" were not plentiful in 
his load, however they were going to be.) 

"There," suggested the Governor, "there is a chance 
to ride, now." To him Anna Maria indignantly, and with 
a curl of her slightly-retrousse nose : " That ? Catch me 
riding in that^ at an early period !" To her the Gover- 
nor, more determinedly: "Now I think, then, that we 
will ride in that, or not go at all !" To him Anna Maria, 



''FEEPARIXG FOR BOARDERS:' 57 

energetically : " Humpli ! You think so — do you ? Then 
J" shall go if I like, and walk if I like, and ride in any- 
thing I please, if I like!" To her the Governor, more 
subtly: "Well, now, I think that the joke would be a 
good one; but, of course, if you are afraid to go in 
it " 

Whereupon the spirits of all the ancestors who could, 
would or should have fought at Bunker-hill or Brandy- 
win^ (whether they did so or not), blazed up in the face 
of Anna Maria, pointed by a fierce ejaculation : "Afraid? 
Who said that I was afraid? Here, arret ez vous, cocker f 
and an imperious beckon and that shout arrested the 
vehicle and its concomitants in their mad career. Within 
half a minute thereafter the united efforts of the Governor 
and the virago " guard " hoisted substantial Anna Maria 
up the steps and into the cart, the gubernatorial purse dis- 
bursed a franc (borrowed), and the onward progress was 
pleasantly resumed. Within a second half-minute Anna 
Maria's pronounced weight and the unstable character of 
the seat combined to produce a fracture and downfall of 
the latter, leading to Anna Maria's achieving what is 
known to the disciples of Ward and Hamill as " catching 
a crab," the body being temporarily deposited at the bot- 
tom of the vehicle, and the pedal extremities extended 
airward in a manner more edifying to others, and in- 
structive as to the qualities of hosiery, than pleasing to 
the unintentional gymnast. 

We went on to the Exposition in the dilapidated rattle- 
trap, however — did we not, Anna Maria ? — and enjoyed 
the ride better than any other during the Parisian cam- 
paign. And how we looked around, during that some- 
what extended progress of less than a mile achieved in 
less than an hour, pityingly on the poor wretches who had 
only ordinary vehicles at command, and wished that 
Murray Hill and the Central Park could catch a glimpse 
3* 



68 PARIS IN '67. 

of us, then ; and dashed up to the Porte Rapp and disem- 
barked with an air that kings and queens might have 
envied, alighting at palace-steps ; and were altogether 
jolly and jubilant when once we had fairly taken posses- 
sion of one of the " conveniences " especially prepared hj 
Paris for the '* American savages and other islanders." 



VI. 



THE EAGLE'S BROOD IN EUROPE. 

The national eagles are numerous ; and it may be neces- 
sary to premise that in speaking of the "eagle's brood" 
I do not refer to the progeny of either the Russian, Aus- 
trian or Prussian birds, all sprawled with erect head and 
dangling legs, as the farmers used to gibbet predatory 
crows and hen-hawks, — nor yet to the one with folded 
wings, bearing an " N " on his breast and popularly 
supposed to he derived from Rome as Napoleon the Third 
is from Julius Csesar, — but to John Neal's 

"Fierce gray bird, with a sharpened beak 
And a blazing eye and an angry shriek " — 

the Gray Forest Eagle of the West, fit symbol of a land 
more boundless in extent than even the flio-ht of the easrle 
itself, and of a nation which alternately seems to possess 
all the nobilities and all the meannesses of that Jovian 
bird — a bird, let it be remembered, which looks unflinch- 
ingly at the sun in its midday glory, finds no rock too 
high for its eyrie and no ether too perilous for its wing, 
and — robs the poor fish-hawk of the paltry spoil it is bear- 
ing homeward for supper ! In short, that in writing of 
the " eagle's brood " in France and the other countries 
of Europe, during 1867, I am alluding to Americans 
abroad. 

What a "raft" of them there has been, to be sure! — 
what a representation of all that is best, worst, and most 



60 PABI8 IN '67. 

common-place in American society ! How every eastward- 
bound steamer hns been loaded with tbeni, destined for as 
indefinite a port in the pleasuring-voyage as some of the 
old merchant-ships used to be for " Cowes and a market ;" 
plethoric pocket-booked and the reverse ; lettered and 
unlettered ; fit and unfit for travel ; old and young ; sick 
and well ; male and female ; misers and spendthrifts ; peo- 
ple with an errand and people without an errand ; objects 
of pride and objects of shame, to be met abroad; some 
eager to set foot among the scenes of familiar history, 
and others asking on the verge of departure : " What was 
the most important things that ever happened in England 
and France and a few of them other countries — so that 
a body can know what he is seein' ?" ; fashionables going 
to show themselves, and mifashionables too slovenly to 
take even due thought for clean linen ; habitual sneerers 
going to undervalue everything, and habitual enthusiasts 
to overrate everything ; radicals to spy out past " rebels " 
abroad, and past rebels to escape for a season the fatal 
pressure of radicals ; patriots bearing with them the whole 
of a native land in their hearts, and indifferents incapable 
of bearing the welfare of a township ; freemen familiar 
with the ballot for half a century, and freedmen just admit- 
ted to the exercise of the misunderstood privilege ; actors 
and tract-society men ; reporters and fugitives ; million- 
aires and bankrupts ; swindlers and their victims ; mer- 
chants in the dull season and lawyers in vacation ; clergy- 
men on their leave, and courtesans on their chase ; 
book-makers and book-murderers ; diamonded dirt-cart- 
men and needy scions of " first families ;" Madame to be 
able to boast of " seeing Europe," and Miss in the faint 
hope of finding a husband somewhere in the melee \ all 
these and those thousand other classes and contradictions 
embraced in the common phrase : " Everybody and his 
wife." 



EAGLE'S BROOD IN EUROPE. 61 

All Europe has been literally alive with this " brood " 
of the American eagle ; and, let the truth be told, all 
Europe has been eocpecting them as anxiously as they 
have been anxiously arriving. They have supplied no 
small proportion of the gold minted from discounted 
greenbacks, by which the '' season" has been made "pro- 
fitable " to London hotel-keepers and Parisian boutiquiers ; 
the verdancy of some of them has made greener the green 
fields of Old England, the brightness of others has added 
a new flash to the glaciers of Switzerland. I have seen 
them button-holing a chance-met friend in the stable- 
yard of the Red Horse at Stratford-on-Avon, and inquir- 
ing, confidentially : " Who icas Skakspeare, that they 
talk so much about, and what did he do ? — tell a fellow, 
won't you?" I have caught them driving a company of 
literal Englishmen wild with merry exaggerative " chaff " 
that would not have puzzled a knot of American school- 
boys, and setting French academicians rampant with bril- 
liantly-nonsensical new propositions in science and phil- 
osophy. I have seen the beauty of American girls bowing 
whole assemblages as if in the presence of a new and more 
glorious human race ; and I have seen the miserable ignor- 
ances, affectations and false modesties of would-be Ameri- 
can ladies awakening well-bred sneers at the country that 
could give birth to such travesties on mind and manners. 
I have seen them climbing the Rhigi on foot, when others 
rode ; and dragged about in carriages when all others 
walked ; and haggling with a hotel-keeper over the price 
of a bougie that had not been burned ; and astounding 
even reckless Baden-Baden with the flash of their uncon- 
sidered handfuls of gambling gold. I have seen, in short, 
what might have astonished the First JSTapoleon, who 
prophesied that Europe would, at an early day, become 
either " republican or Cossack " — I have seen it literally 
American I 



62 PARIS IN '67. 

But of course, amid all the outside attractions and excur- 
sions, the great gathering-place of the eagle's brood, as of 
all the rest of the world, has been Paris. Where have 
they not been visible, there? What one of the royal 
receptions has not been watched by them with that double 
eagerness proper for republicans ? — which one of the 
worst cancwis danced at Mabille or the Chateau des Fleurs 
has not been beheld by them with that horrified admira- 
tion proper for people of a nation which never tolerates 
such exhibitions ? What grand-opera night has been 
deficient in the flash of American diamonds, whether the 
brow or bosom on which they glowed was lovely or the 
reverse ? What midnight promenade on the brilliant Bou- 
levard has failed to reveal the natty rig of the Bostonian, 
the jaunty swagger of the New Yorker, the trim whisker 
of the Philadelphian, the short trousers and thin cheeks of 
the speculative country Yankee, the broad- bottomed coat 
and astonishing antiquated hat of the man from *' only a 
hundred miles west of Chicawgo ?" And where and when, 
outside the cafe, along the walks of the Avenue des 
Champs Elysees, or in the cour d'honneur of the Grand 
Hotel, has that spectacle so dear to all Americans been 
missing — a few tilted chairs and the proper quantity of 
boot-soles elevated for exhibition ? 

Which of the great hotels has not found the more liberal- 
handed of them among its best customers ? and at what 
maison meublee have they not at first threatened madness 
to Madame the proprietress, and afterwards supplied con- 
tent to all ? What shopkeeper of the Boulevards or the 
Palais Royal has not aided in depleting their pockets ? 
What restaurant keeper has failed to hear their French of 
all varieties, to supply them with English of correspond- 
ing excellence, and to serve them eventually what he 
pleased at his own prices ? Into what corner of the Expo- 
sition have they not peeped, at once proud and ashamed 



EAGLE'S BROOD IN EUROPE. 63 

of their own country and its department, and diligently 
studying what other countries could teach, while loudly 
boasting that their own was incapable of improvement ? 
Through what gallery of Versailles or the Louvre have 
they not minced or stridden, some of them really observ- 
ing the pictures and statuary, and the balance believing 
that they did so ? Up what monument have they not 
climbed, to be able to say that they " had the view from 
such and such a point," if for no higher (but how could 
there have been a "higher?") ambition? 

Have they not eaten at the American Restaurant of the 
Exposition ? — drank at the American Bar ? — inscribed their 
names at the American Registry ? — drawn money and read 
American newspapers at the American Bankers' ? 

Yerily, not to carry out this line of inquiry to any 
greater tediousness, the brood of the American eagle have 
"seen Paris" during the summer of '67, and Paris and all 
Europe have seen them. Shall not a few words follow of 
their peculiarities as a people abroad, and the estimation 
in which they have been held, especially during this mem- 
orable summer ? 

At Paris, and measurably over Europe, this year, Amer- 
icans have gratified nearly as much curiosity as they have 
manifested. Never before, so much as since the rebellion, 
have America, American events, and the American people, 
been so much in the whole world's mouths and minds. 
The rebellion, with its promise of our destruction — our 
astounding innovations in engines of warfare, our sudden 
fleets by the hundred and armies by the million — our emer- 
gence from the great struggle, not only victorious but 
apparently stronger than ever, and walking without evi- 
dent staggering under a financial load capable of crushing 
to the earth any nation on the globe except one or possibly 
two — our sudden abolition of slavery, for our own pur- 
poses, when we had adhered to it in defiance of the opin- 



64: FA BIS /i^ '67. 

ion of a railing world — our late great Western develop- 
ments of railroad enterprise — our rivers flowing with oil, 
following our mountains teeming with gold and silver— 
our audacious crossings of the Atlantic in river-yachts 
and cock-boats — all these have wrought together to awaken 
the world's curiosity to an extent unparalleled and almost 
undreamed of even by ourselves. And, at the great Paris 
gathering and in those portions of Europe more exten- 
sively this year than ever before visited by Americans, it 
is but fair to say that the eagle's brood have been stared 
at as much as they have stared — that the tnen who could 
do all these things at once have been quite as great objects 
of curiosity as any scenes or any people among which they 
have moved. 

Americans, too, have been holding the world's respect, 
this year, as never before. Not — as my first radical friend 
may exclaim with a triumphant '* Aha !" — on account of 
the moral effect of emancipation ; for I have no doubt that 
the lamented Abraham Lincoln might have affixed his name 
to a document enslaving a new race instead of freeing 
one, and had the operation added to the power of the 
nation, the effect upon the world at large would have been 
quite as decided. But that, first, the personal push and 
energy, and, second, the material power of the American 
people, have been lately shown in an unwonted degree in 
the points before mentioned and in many others; — and 
that Europe is the continent, above all others, where 
power is deferred to ar.d success treated with unbounded 
respect. The Europeans understand, now, that we can 
raise armies, erect navies, and crush rebellions, to an ex- 
tent and with a rapidity fabulous elsewhere ; they un- 
derstand that our mineral resources approach if they do 
not exceed those of all the rest of the globe put together ; 
they believe (whether truly or not) that we have the purse 
of Fortunatus hidden away somewhere, nationally, and 



EAGLE'S BROOD IN EUROPE. 65 

are thus capable of sheltering all the world's outcasts, 
enriching all the world's shopkeepers, girdling all the world 
with the chains and bonds of our commercial enterprise ; 
they see in us one of the Great Powers of the earth, in the 
ordinary acceptation of the term, and begin to mark our ex- 
ceptional position as the undisputed arbiters of the destinies 
of one whole continent ; and these incitements to respect, 
if no others existed, would be quite sufficient to induce that 
feeling, not to say compel it. 

But candor obliges the statement that to one of the 
features named in the previous paragraph, we have owed 
more of the almost awe-struck temporary admiration of 
the European world, than to almost any other if not to 
all the others combined. I refer to the enterprise shown, 
the engineering audacity manifested, and the progress 
achieved, in that crowning venture of an adventurous age, 
the great Pacific Railroad. To hear of the two great 
agencies, the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific Com- 
panies, marching hand in hand though far apart, and tramp- 
ing steadily onward to a success as stupendous as assured 
— to hear of the Central crossing eastward the whole gold 
country of California, and climbing the wild Sierra Nevada 
to its very top, with almost the speed that would once 
have been thought necessary to lay a mule-track — to hear 
of the Union marching westward across the plains and 
approaching the foot of the Rocky Mountains, its trains 
moving cities and its operators armies — to hear of a gov- 
ernment assisting both enterprises by scores of millions 
and yet allowing private capitalists to take liens in advance 
of itself, so assured that any lien upon such roads must be 
a safe one — to hear of uncompleted portions of such roads 
paying interest on three or four times the investment, nine 
per cent, on bonds, and even favorite " Governments'' sold 
out to secure them — these things have been simply astound- 
ing to short-railway and three-per-cent. interest Europeans ; 



m PARIS IN '67. 

it has been to inquire of the truth of these marrelous 
statements that more Americans have been button-holed 
in Europe during 1867, than for any other purpose; 
and it has been to the nation capable, at the very close of 
a great war, of thus proving its hold upon the centre as 
well as the borders of a continent, and laying substantial 
railways at the rate of miles per day — it has been to a 
nation so shown abroad, that some of the very highest 
honors of the season have naturally accrued. 

Again, Americans have been keeping up the reputation, 
this year, of spending more money when traveling, than 
the people of any other nation on the globe. To spend 
money is to have money, at least among superficial think- 
ers — to be extravagant is to be rich — to belong to a 
nation of rich men is to belong to one of great power — to 
belong to a powerful nation is to command respect uni- 
versally. I do not insist upon this as a legitimate ground 
of respect : some of the worst fools have been spending the 
most money. But the fa^t remains that while this national 
lavish personal expenditure goes on, the flunkey world 
(and much of Europe is flunkey) will scarcely stop to in- 
quire whether the means for such an expenditure have 
been inherited, earned, or swindled ; couriers and valets 
will lie in wait, hotels will be kept open, carriages will 
stand, flags will wave, as they have done this season, more 
than half for American patronage. This whole reckless- 
ness of money is a national vice as well as a national folly ; 
but as each one of us catches a reflection from the last 
flash of the departing dollar, why should the country com- 
plain ? 

Then, and as the last ingredient in this respect, neces- 
sary to be noticed here, we have astounded all the world 
by our success at the Exposition and compelled recogni- 
tion in that success. Of the special articles on exhibition, 
covering us with this leojitimate honor, other mention will 



EAGLE'S BROOD IN EUROPE, 67 

be made in dne place : here only the general fact demands 
note. We had a cramped space, Yqw articles, a mean-look- 
ing department — to the superficial eye, a department mean 
beyond comj^arison, in the midst of oriental splendor in 
decoration, and the profusion of articles contributed by 
countries of nearer location. We have taken more grand 
prizes than any nation on the globe except two — more 
grand prizes per cent of articles exhibited, than any other 
nation ever took at any exhibition. We have ruled and 
conquered in the practical, throughout — in an instance or 
two, hereafter to be noted, in the so-called higher depart- 
ment of the ornamental. This — the awards declared so 
early in the season as the first of July — has capped and 
crowned the respect paid to the eagle's brood — a brood by 
no means slow to perceive when they are honored or when 
they ought to he 1 

In one respect America has signally failed, in Europe and 
during the summer. With a few exceptions (and I hope 
that every American lady who chances to be or have been 
abroad will consider herself one of them) we have not 
shown, this year, a fair representation of our female beauty. 
There have been too many dowagers, too many dowdy 
parvenues, too many acidulous spinsters, too few of those 
best types of American girlhood and American wifehood 
who had before won us the well-deserved name of jjroduc- 
ing the hajidsomest and most lovely race of loomen on the 
globe. Far too many of the best whom we have sent, have 
been habitually overdressed — overdressed on shipboard, 
in railway carriages, on promenade, everywhere except at 
great festivals, where excess in any line was almost impos- 
sible. Taken as a whole, the French Exposition, a triumph 
for American manufacturers, has scarcely raised their repu- 
tation for the one production dwarfing all others in its 
appeal to the eye and the heart. The fault, I take it, does not 
lie in any deterioration at home, or in any unwillingness of 



68 PABIS IN '67. 

our loveliest to have tempted the Atlantic waves, would 
Papa but have opened his purse-strings wide enough, or 
Charles not been too jealous or too selfish to take his pretty 
wife, or Adolphus not been too slow in arranging for those 
" bridal favors." 

Three or four additional features remain to be noticed. 
The females of the brood have been especially reckless in 
their " shoppings " along the Boulevards and around the 
Palais Royal ; and they have insisted upon Mabille and 
Asnieres with an urgency showing that we are " progress- 
ing." All, male and female, with few and notable excep- 
tions, have gabbled such atrocious French, as to paralyze 
their victims with horror ; while in nine instances out of 
ten they could have found enough English on the other 
side, however correspondingly atrocious, to save self-re- 
spect. I think that beyond this, the two strongest natural 
characteristics shown by the eagle's brood in Europe have 
been the bewilderment of the females as to the best ar- 
rangement of their chignons^ in the midst of a variety 
ranging from a knob at the back of the neck to a knot at 
the exact center of the top-head, — and the agonizing ef- 
forts of the males to avoid being imposed upon with horse- 
beef, in lands where they are so shameless as to announce 
" hors d* oeuvres " on their bills-of-fare ! 



YII. 

THE CARNIVAL OF CROWNED HEADS. 

Notable as has been the Paris Exposition in many other 
regards, its splendor as a " show " and its power of attract- 
ing the masses would both have been found sadly deficient 
in comparison, but for the concourse of Emperors, Kings, 
Oriental Sultans, Pachas, Beys, g,nd other governing pow- 
ers, and the scions of governing houses, for so many weeks 
supplying Parisians and their visitors with a new sensation 
in eyesight, almost every day, and presenting a suspicion, 
for the time, that there had been a general " throne-deliv- 
ery," and that all the fugitive monarchs had fled to Paris 
as their common refuge. Alas, no ! — the second glance 
and the second thought showed that no such series of royal 
calamities had overflowed France with the kingly element. 
They brought with them too many evidences of their state, 
and they were too pronouncedly received, for the suspicion 
to linger more than a moment that they were monarchs 
discrowned! Not even France, now-a-days, and in spite 
of the example set by Louis in the reception and mainte- 
nance of fugitive English James the Second at St. Ger- 
main — not even France, now-a-days, can aflbrd to set up 
mimic courts for the royal unfortunates; else would she 
have found plenty of employment for courtesy and cash, 
following the events of the first Italian war, and again 
after Sadowa. 

No ! — these all, in contradistinction, were monarchs who 
had not yet lost their crowns, or budding monarchs who 



70 PARIS IN '67. 

had not yet received the baubles in waiting. And not 
even many of the Parisians, it is probable, have taken the 
pains to make such a list of the sovereigns and scions of 
sovereignty who have passed before them in review, that 
they could designate either their names or succession. As, 
indeed, how could they, when one princely celebrity after 
another came so rapidly, and moved about so ceaselessly, 
that one graphic writer designated Paris as " a parterre of 
kings, and of half and quarter kings," with " the people 
at the Tuileries and the Etat-Major — that is to say, the mas- 
ters of ceremonies and officers in command of the city — • 
not knowing: whether thev stand on their heads or their 
heels," " the town barricaded as in time of revolution" (to 
secure uninterrupted passage to the royal guests), " and 
the monarchs scattered about town in the various palaces, 
in so promiscuous a manner as almost to suggest the idea 
that they want to shut off the circulation ;" while of the 
propensity to " do " them, pedally and visually, another 
pleasantly summed the whole matter in saying that : " The 
presence of so many sovereigns or to-be sovereigns in 
Paris, has literally turned the heads of a large class of peo- 
ple, who station themselves all day long at the doors of the 
Exhibition, or on certain corners of the streets, and refuse 
to be comforted till they have seen a dozen crowned heads. 
The Exhibition is the great trap to catch the unfortunate 
monarchs in, and people go there and hunt through its 
labyrinthine windings just as hunters do the forests after 
game ; and then they come home, radiant and happy, and 
boast of having seen their half-a-dozen, just as an Indian 
warrior would boast of his half-a-dozen scalps, or a hun- 
ter of his pairs of game. None of the innocent weak- 
nesses of poor human nature are so seductive as flunkey- 
ism." 

For sovereigns to visit Paris, without the special in- 
citement of an International Exposition, is not quite the 



CABN-IVAL OF CROWNED HEADS. 71 

rarity, however, which the same event would present in 
any other capital than the English — Paris being consider- 
ed, even more than London, one of the " world's sights " 
that cannot be ignored or neglected; and no small number 
of crowned heads have nodded beside the Seine durinsf the 
past half-centnry — the list of whom, here, would be only 
wearisome if attainable. Sometimes, too, they have come 
as little else than captives, long since the day when Fran- 
cis the First supplied the opposite vicissitude to Charles 
the Fifth after Pa via, as was the case with that temporo- 
spiritual sovereign, Pope Pius the Seventh, ostensibly a 
guest of the First Napoleon, but really a prisoner. Then 
they have come as conquerors, as when the Allied 
Sovereigns held high revel in the forfeit capital of Napo- 
leon, after Waterloo, in revenge for the humiliation to 
which he had subjected them when both Alexander of 
Russia and Francis of Austria went to him as suppliants, 
the one personally and the other by deputy, on the night 
following Austerlitz. 

The visit of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert to the 
Emperor at Paris, and their entertainment there, is, of 
course, well-remembered, as also the return visit of the 
Emperor to the queen at Windsor ; and it is to note a fea- 
ture originating in true courtesy, though almost laughably 
overstrained, common to that date and the present, that 
the double event is here alluded to. When Napoleon III. 
visited Windsor, the name of " Waterloo Chamber " was 
taken down from above the door of that celebrated apart- 
ment in Windsor Castle, that the eyes of the imperial 
guest might not be pained by resting upon the objection- 
able word ; and the Emperor, this year, gave special orders 
that no soldier wearing the Crimean medal should be 
placed on guard at or around the palace occupied by the 
Czar, or at any point where he could be mortiiied by that 
similar reminder of defeat ! Just as if Napoleon long for- 



72 PARIS IN '67. 

got Waterloo wlien on English soil, or Alexander Sevas- 
topol when on French, from the lack of verbal or tangible 
reminders ! 

It may be a matter of interest to others than Parisians, 
as it is certainly part of the record of the Exposition, to 
recall who really were the imperial, royal, and royally- 
expectant personages sojourning in Paris for a longer or 
briefer period dming the summer of 1867 ; and that loant 
of disposition to run after notable people^ which led me, 
not long ago, to make musical choice between five opening 
minutes of the Concert in the English Garden at Geneva, 
or a near view of the arriving King and Queen of Portu- 
gal, just then coming to my hotel — this, and the want of 
familiarity with royal precedence v^^hich flows from it, 
must be my excuse if I do not happen to place them pre- 
cisely as Monsieur the Grand Chamberlain would do in 
arranging their seats at table. 

The list seems to have comprised nearly sixty members 
of blood imperial or royal, grouped as follows : Russian — 
the Czar, Hereditary Grand Duke, Grand Duke Constan- 
tine. Grand Duchess Mary (sister of the Czar) ; English — 
Prince of Wales, Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Arthur, 
Princess Alice (Princess Louis of Hesse) ; Prussian — 
King and Queen of Prussia, Crown Prince and Princess 
Royal, Prince Albert, Prince and Princess Charles ; JBel- 
gian — King and Queen of Belgium, Count and Countess 
of Flanders ; Italian — Prince Humbert, Duke and Duchess 
d'Aosta ; Swedish — King of Sweden, Prince Oscar ; 
Manarian — Kings Louis I. and II., Prince and Princess 
AdaJberg ; Hollandische — Prince of Orange ; Saxon — 
Prince and Princess Royal of Saxony, Duke and Duchess 
of Saxony ; Portuguese — King and Queen of Portugal, 
Duke de Coimbre ; Turkish — Sultan, his son, brother, and 
the Hereditary Prince of Turkey ; Grecian — King of 
Greece ; Egyptian — Viceroy (now king) ; Wurtemburgian 



CARNIVAL OF CROWNED HEADS. 



< o 



—King of Wiirtemburg, Duke William, Count de Wur- 
temburg ; Ger7nan—DukQ of Leuclitenberg, Princess 
Eugenie of Leucbtenberg, Grand Duke of Saxe- Weimar, 
Duke of Saxe-Weimar, Duke of Mechlenburg-Strelitz, 
Prince of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, three Princes of Oldenberg, 
Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Baden, Prince of Hohen- 
zollern, and his son. Prince Leopold, Grand Duke of Mech- 
lenberg-Schwerin, Prince of Reuss; Tunisian — the Bey of 
Tunis ; Japanese — Brother of the Tycoon. Of this number 
there are two emperors (the Czar and Sultan), nine kings 
(including the new king of Egypt), nine heirs-presump- 
tive to royal power, one oriental sovereign below kingly 
power (the Bey of Tunis), three queens, and a dozen prin- 
cesses — certainly a number and variety unparalleled in the 
annals of regal hospitality for a single year, and unlikely 
soon to be duplicated by any single festivity. 

There was probably .more royalty and quasi-royalty 
present at Paris, during the season (especially that of the 
nearer and less notable German type), than either the 
Emperor or his most enthusiastic chamberlain had antici- 
pated ; and yet there were many absences of those who 
had been more or less definitely expected, and whose pres- 
ence would have added materially to the perfection of the 
concourse and the eclat of the great occasion. A few of 
these, and the reasons for their absence, may be worth a 
paragraph each. 

1st. His Holiness the Pope. Slightly expected at one 
time or another during the season. Reasons for declining ; 
First., the grand convocation of bishops from all the world,, 
and great festival of the church held at St. Peter's, on Sat- 
urday, the 29th of June. Second., some doubt whether, if 
he set foot in France, he would not be called upon to con- 
summate the long-deferred crowning of the emperor, and 
thus enrage all his supporting monarchs of the "right 
divine." 

4 



74 PARIS IN '67. 

2d. Queen Yictoria of England. Ardently expected 
and desired at the time of the Czar's visit. Sent her re- 
grets, and declined to come in state, on the ground of her 
non-participation in public ceremonials ; but held out the 
hope that she might possibly visit Paris incognito. Sur- 
mised that she icould come incognito, not only to oblige 
the Emperor, but to look a little after the Prince of Wales, 
whose " goings on," in the way of saying soft things to 
countesses, and going to Chantilly races on Sunday, were 
alleged to be terrible. Failed to come at all, however — 
possibly detained by the Reform Bill, the late session of 
Parliament, and the publication of her memoirs of the 
"Early Days of the Prince Consort." 

3d. President Andreto Johnson^ of the TInited States, 
Very much desired, on the double ground of his being a 
" Republican king " and the worst badgered man living ; 
but scarcely expected. Reasons for remaining at home : 
First^ no expressed desire whatever to visit Paris. Second, 
precisely so many conglomerate reasons as represented by 
the Congressional Districts. 

4th. The Shah of Persia, Fully expected at about the 
time of the Sultan's visit. Rumored reasons for declining : 
domestic political troubles of a character rendering it likely 
that if he left Persia, he would not enter it again except 
dethroned and shorter by a head. 

5th. The Emperor of Austria. Among the most ar- 
dently desired and fully expected, in the early days of the 
Exposition; afterwards not expected at all. Detaining 
causes : at first, the preparations for and crowning as King 
of Hungary, which took place at Pesth on the same day 
with the grand ball at the Hotel de Ville, Saturday, June 
8th. Afterward the melancholy fate of his brother Maxi- 
milian, in Mexico, and the mourning and depression inci- 
dent to that event.* 

6th. Tlie King of Italy. Desired and hoped for by 

• Finally reached Paris, ho-wever, and was imperially entertained, in October. 



CARNIVAL OF CROWNED HEADS. T5 

every lover of gallant men ; but perhaps a trifle afraid of 
meeting Austria and getting into a " complication " with 
him, and engaged at home in watching the Roman reac- 
tionists on one side, and the " Party of Action" on the 
other. 

'7th. The Emperor of China. Kot much expected, 
though much desired by the sudden admirers of oriental- 
ism in every shape, who thought that he would at least come 
to "tea" at the Tuileries. Reason for declining, humor- 
ously said to have been " the discovery of a hole in the 
Chinese wall, that needed mending," and " his early age 
of only twelve years, which made him too brittle a piece 
of ' China ' to bear such long transportation." 

8th. Queen Isabella of Spain. Certainly expected at 
one time. Kept at home by jealousy of the Empress, who 
was handsomer than she, and had once been her subject ; 
little domestic events not necessary to enlarge upon ; and 
General Prim. 

9th. Tlie King of Denmarh. IsTot seriously expected, 
and detained by the fact that there might be " too much 
Prussia" at Paris, and he would have nothing whatever 
left of his little when he returned. 

10th. His sable Majesty of Dahomey. Very much de- 
sired by the Exeter Hall people and the American rad- 
icals. Supposed to be detained by the dullness of his 
executioners' knives, rendering it impossible to get his 
annual forty thousand beheaded and chopped up in time. 

11th. The King of the Mosquitos. Looked for mth 
eagerness, but kept at home by a temporary deficiency in 
broad-cloth, of no consequence there., but likely to be 
awkward at Paris. 

12th. Brigham Yoimg, Sovereign of Utah. Positively 
promised at one time ; but departure from Salt Lake City 
rendered impossible by the arrival of several new emigrants 
with handsome wives, all of whom required to be *' added." 



76 PARIS IN '67. 

Sent one of his sons, however, who unaccountably failed 
to be recognized among the princes. 

13th. Juarez^ Dictator {called President) of Mexico. 
Very anxiously expected, accompanied by Lopez, Chevalier 
de la Legion d'^Honneur^ but detained by the necessity of 
killing and salting away enough of the Imperialists for a 
year's provisions. 

14th. Khig Theodore of Abyssinia. Specially invited, 
on English account, but without the tender of the royal 
alliance which his Majesty had so long coveted. Conse- 
quent sullen shutting of himself up, which may need an 
" expedition " to overcome. 

15th (and the last, so far as remembered). The King 
of the Cannibal Islands. 

Of course, the arrival of the Czar of Russia, and his brief 
stay in Paris, formed the crowning event of the season; as 
the mad attempt upon his life by the Pole Bergouski, when 
returning from the grand review at Longchamps, on the 
6th of June, supplied the one regret which marred the 
whole succession. " Tommy," who was present at all the 
out-door events of the Czar's reception, says of the arrival, 
that " all the troops in Paris were at the Northern Rail- 
way station and in the Place du Carrousel ; all the people 
of Paris were in the streets ; all the Russian flags that 
could be bought, made, or stolen, were on the houses ; and 
yet Nappy went to the station after the t'other big- wig, 
with not much more state than the Banker would have 
shown if be had been coming down to the Harlem rail- 
road station after me — with only a hundred or two of 
guards fluttering their lance-pennons ; and it was worth 
something to see the two shaking hands when they met, 
like jolly old codgers that hadn't a crown between them, 
let alone a crown apiece!" Tommy records, too, with 
something like a chuckle at the weaknesses of gray-headed 
people who call others ^'youngsters," that " the Russian 



CARNIVAL OF CROWNED HEADS. 77 

Bear went to the theater the very first night — didn't he, 
though ! — just as if he had come all the way from Petero- 
polis to see pretty Mile. Schneider, and do the ' Grande 
Duchesse de Gerolstein.' " A little more at length, but 
indispensable, is the brief account which he supplies of the 
grand review in the Bois de Boulogne, and the attempted 
regicide : — 

" Of course you know where the review took place, when 
they say that it was in the ' Bois.' Where else could it be 
than on the course at Longcharaps ? — quite as well fitted 
for reviewing, it seems to rae, as for horse-racing. It 
was a gay old show, and I didn't wonder that my friend 
Nappy's eyes — very dull ones sometimes, now-a-days — 
flashed a little when he looked on those columns and 
squadrons, and thought that they were all his — when he 
had the privilege, too, of showing them to the Czar, and 
thus giving a polite hint to that opposition house on the 
other side of the street. ' Do you see them^ old boy ? 
They belong to one! I manage them! Look at them 
well, and see if you fancy that you could ride into Paris a 
conqueror, as your namesake did. I^ot if this imperial 
Court knows herself, and she think she do!' This was 
what Nappy was saying, under his breath, to the Czar, 
as the two looked at the fifty battalions of infantry, fifty 
squadrons of cavalry, and eighteen or twenty batteries of 
artillery — really the best trained troops in the world : the 
men in good condition, the cavalry powerfully mounted, 
the artillery riding guns that the Emperor has made per- 
fection, and the whole sueh a mass of splendid uniforms, 
bright weapons, glittering brass and silver, plumes, flags, 
and perpetual motion, that the eye was kept steadily 
whirling from one point to another, and a fellow came 
nearer to being drunk than he usually does without a tod. 
Then the bands and the music they made ! — but you know 
about French bands ; and when I tell you that there must 



78 PARIS IN- '67. 

have been a hundred of them, with thirty or forty in- 
struments to each, and that they played — not squealed 
or screamed, but played — you can form some idea of the 
way that the ' music of the spheres,' boiled down to quiet 
thunder, was dinned into our ears. But while Nappy was 
seeing and hearing all this, and saying so much to the 
Czar without being heard, I was saying something that 
has not been heard until now. And this was my little 
address to my friend Nappy : ' Old fel., they are a nice 
body of troops, horse, foot and dragoons, and they would 
do to tie to under ordinary circumstances, such as a scrim- 
mage with the Russian Bear yonder, or any little trifle of 
that sort. But do you know what Zsaw a couple of years 
ago, when Grant and Sherman marched the remnants of 
their armies through Washington ? — A body of men in 
faded uniforms, no shirts, and scarcely a shoe; the flags 
tatters, the horses half skeletons, and the poor fellows 
looking as if they needed early foraging for a dinner ; not 
a flash of splendor anywhere about them, not a suggestion 
of beauty or a thought of even comfort ; and yet before 
the same number of that body of men, your gingerbread 
battalions, that day or this day, would be scattered like 
chaff blown away before an American northwester. 
That is about the style and size of it, my imperial friend 
and brother ! ' This is what I was saying, just then. 
What do you think of it as a specimen of spread-eagle that 
will wash ? 

" Now a word about something else that occurred the 
same day — the attempt to shoot the Czar. I do not like 
regicides — like them less than ever, since April 1865 ; so 
I do not know why I should have been selected to see 
Bertezowski, or Bergerowski, or Bergouski, or whatever is 
his confounded name, make a fool and a scoundrel of him- 
self at the same time. But so I was, perhaps because (as 
the Banker would say) I was ' foreordained ' to tell you 



GAENIVAL OF CROWNED HEADS. 79 

about it. I shall not tell you mucli, thougli, for I may be- 
fore have remarked that I don't approve of anything mur- 
derous, from a hanging-match to a bout at fisticuffs. Well, 
the review was over, the troops were filing away, part of 
them Parisward, through the Avenue de Longchamps, 
and the rest westward toward Yallerien. It may have 
been about five o'clock, I should think ; and Count Bob 
and I, in our open fiacre, were just turning into the ave- 
nue from the Cascade, where we had been watching — I 
suppose that I may as well tell the whole truth while I am 
about it — watching a couple of * pieces of calico ' that 
seemed to want 'pressing out.' Suddenly a sergent de ville 
took our horse by the head and forced him back, the 
crowd opened way by falling back against the borders, 
and away came an open carriage and four at a smart trot, 
with a sprinkling of officers ahead and half around it, and 
a squadron of lancers close behind ; and we saw that it 
was the two emperors, riding together, and their heads 
very near, as if in conversation. Just then Count Bob 
grasped my arm with a half-cry : ' Look there ! See that 
dog with a pistol ! Where is he pointing it ? He is 
mad !' I saw by that time, that a thin, starved-looking 
fellow, with wild eyes and old clothes, had stepped from 
behind a tree, and that he really had a pistol pointed to- 
ward the carriage of the emperors. Before I could see 
anything more, distinctly, there was another cry, a rush ; 
and it seemed to me that at the same instant when I heard 
the bang of the pistol, I saw a man spur his horse almost 
against the carriage, and thought that he must be another 
conspirator, and that there was really going to be murder 
by the wholesale. But it seemed that he was only a lucky 
fellow, who chanced to be in the way of making his for- 
tune, and that he had seen the movement and pushed his 
horse in the way so rapidly that the bullet hit the horse 
instead of either of the emperors, though part of the 



80 PARIS IN '67. 

blood went over them. The man who had fired was down 
(they said that the pistol had burst and half blown off his 
han^) ; about twenty people were on top of him or grab- 
bing at him ; mounted police and officers were spurring 
every which way and getting nowhere ; everybody seemed 
to be shouting and getting arrested ; and there was a lively 
time generally. Count Bob said that all that was wanted was 
a barricade. The only calm people, I think, were the two 
emperors, each one of whom seemed to be looking whether 
the other was hurt, without much apparent thought for 
himself, or whether there might not be another bullet 
where that came from. 

" That is nearly all that I know of the affair, except that 
I saw Nappy and his friend acknowledging the felicita- 
tions of the crowd, and thought better of monarchy at 
that moment than I had ever done before ; that I saw 
them bundle up the pistol man, after nearly pounding him 
to a jelly, throw him into a close carriage, and drive him 
away ; and that then the guards came closer around the 
imperial carriage (just when they were less wanted), and 
it trotted rapidly up the avenue. My opinion is that the 
Parisians, who don't like anybody to be killed by others 
than themselves, would have hung the drunken or crazy 
Pole if they had caught him and understood what he had 
done ; and another of my opinions is that the man who 
had his horse shot will make a good thing out of the little 
operation, while I, who saw it as well as he, and would 
have prevented the shot if I could, haven't made anything 
out of it — not even a readable paragraph." 

I am indebted to " Monadnock," of the JSTeto Torh Dailij 
Times^ an excellent descriptive correspondent, for the brief 
word which follows, with reference to the appearance of 
the Grand Opera on Wednesday evening, the 5th June, and 
the arrangement of the party in the Imperial box — a scene 
which the "Counselor's Lady" joins with him in consid- 



CARI^IYAL OF CROWNED HEADS, ^i 

ering unparalleled in play-house annals, whether for the 
distinction of the company present, or the splendor of de- 
tail in costumes, lights, and general scenic effect : — 

" The splendor of the Imperial box at the opera," says 
this correspondent, " in the midst of all the blaze of liglit 
and beauty, of riches and magnificence around it, may be 
imagined from the following plan, which will show you 
the arrangement of the imperial and royal assemblage; 
each of the following illustrious jDersoiiages, be it ob- 
served, having his or her attendants, suitable to their 
rank, and all with appropriate costumes and decorations. 

THE IMPERIAL BOX. 

Prixce Mueat. 
Duke of Leuchtenbeeg. 
Princess Eugenie. 
G-RAND Duke "Waldimir. 
Princess Louis of Hesse. 
Hereditary G-rand Duke. 
Princess Rotal of Prussia. 
EMPEROR NAPOLEOK 
EMPEROR ALEXANDER. 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 

Prince Royal of Prussia. 

Grand Duchess Mary of Russia. 
Prince Louis of Hesse, 
Princess Mathilde, 

Prince Ferdinand op Hesse. 
Princess Murat. 

Prince of Saxe-Weimar. 
Brother of the Tycoon. 

" Arrano-e these in the dress circle of the most brilliant 
theatre you can conceive, with their attendant celebrities 
grouped behind them, in a house filled with the cream 
of the most brilliant capital in the world, and you 
have a spectacle, compared to which that of the stage 
offered but slight attractions to the curious or thoughtful 

4* 



82 PARIS IK '67. 

visitor. The two emperors and the sons of the Czar were 
dressed in brilliant uniforms, as well as many others, while 
the imperial and royal ladies, among whom the Empress 
shines supreme in beauty as in power, all wore their dia- 
denis, and all blazed and glittered wdth most precious 
gems." 

The reception of the Czar, and the festivities which fol- 
lowed that event, have been thus dwelt upon, a little at 
length, because they may be regarded as having been the 
culmination of this apotheosis of royalty during the Expo- 
sition. Only less imperial attention, meanwhile, was paid 
to the King of Prussia, the mutual embrace of whom with 
the Emperor may or may not have been accompanied (as 
maliciously alleged) with deadly hatred on either side and 
a desire for speedy immolation of the " brother." Per- 
haps the Sultan, with his oriental luxury and attendance, 
produced more eifect on the minds of the volatile Paris- 
ians than either of his more powerful rivals ; and the 
eagerness with which the mercantile classes of the city are 
always ready to seize upon local or momentary advertising 
advantages, has been amusingly shown by the numbers of 
establishments decorating their fronts with flags of what 
chanced for the moment to be the predominating foreign 
nation in the public mind, and to pull up those character- 
istic signs pandering to the madness of the hour : " Au 
Sultan," " A la Reine de Prusse," " Au Czar," " Au Bey 
de Tunis," &c. 

But this episodical paper on the royal visitors to Paris 
must come to a close. This is not a history, as readers 
may before this time have discovered ; and it is not a por- 
trait-gallery, even for royal personages, except as here and 
there " Our Boy Tommy," the " Counselor's Lady," or 
some other member of my " reliable corps " of resident 
Parisian correspondents, may supply a few daguerreotypes 
caught in the midst of current ceremonials. 



vni. 

THE OPENING OF THE EXPOSITION— AS SEEN BY 
"OUP BOY TOMMY." 

The Governor, as already indicated, was not present at 
the Opening of the Great Exposition, from causes too 
numerous, too uninteresting (and some of them too deli- 
cate) for public mention. That official ceremony took place 
on Monday, the first of April ; and the gubernatorial arrival 
(on the way to the Exposition, Switzerland, and a summer 
spree generally) occurred at or about the period when the 
prizes had just been declared, and the jubilant Americans, 
who had received them in the proportion of over sixty per 
cent., were purchasing their lemon kids and white cravats 
for the Hail Columbia Fourth of July dinner at the Grand 
Hotel. 

But at the Opening, as well as on other notable occa- 
sions during the Great Exposition, the Governor, though 
absent himself, rejoiced in the presence of what the leading 
dailies designate as "a full and efiicient stafiT of corres- 
pondents." Various accounts of each have accordingly 
been supplied to the " directing mind," affording a per- 
fect embarrasse de richesse of materials for choice ; and it 
need scarcely be said that the most reliable, if not the most 
classic account of each, has been selected with Draconian 
impartiality. Of the Opening, by far the most trenchant 
account was supplied by " Our Boy Tommy " (before 
spoken of) ; and he has accordingly been made the medium 
of description, his own words being used throughout, 



S4:' FA BIS 7i^ '-6 7. 

except in a few instances in which the originals would have 
been found — not to put too fine a point upon it — strong in 
exjyression. ■ 

Tommy is of Xew York — N"ew-Yorky, with enough of 
country blood on one side to give him breadth if it takes 
away a shade of delicacy. No matter how Tommy's 
father amassed the five hundred thousand which enables 
him to hold place on Murray Hill and send Tommy to be 
educated in Europe : enough to say that he acquired it 
honorably, as mercantile life goes, before the days of bogus 
railways, shoddy, lead, or oil. He was not originally well- 
educated ; and remembering the toil through which he 
acquired, in later years, a part of the lore which should 
have been his at the commencement of manhood, he 
resolved that his son should never tread the same weary 
road. He should be educated — educated thoroughly ; but 
where ? ISTot at home, where there would always be too 
many " entangling alliances " for his thorough grounding ; 
not in any distant American city, for one reason and 
another, charmingly incongruous ; not in Germany, for if 
there was anything that Tommy's father hated, that object 
of hatred was what he designated as " Dutch " — the cause 
of dislike being supposed to be that he had once been over- 
reached by a German Jew dealer, in an early mercantile 
transaction. Vv^here, then ? A thoughtful friend sug- 
gested — Paris. The very place ! His boy could learn 
his books and the world at the same time ; and as for any 
of the dangers of what were called the " dissipations of 
Paris " — fudge ! — if his son had not brains enough to 
withstand them, he was not worth educating anywhere ! 

So Tommy's father brought Tommy to Paris, in the lat- 
ter part of 1865, and left him in pleasant lodgings not 
far from the Boulevard des Poissonieres, with a liberal 
allowance of pocket^^money, and a slight permission to 
*' draw " in case of absolute necessity (only) ; an abbe as 



OPEITIN'a OF TEE EXF OSITION. 86 

a tutor, and piles of injunctions to " be a good boy, take 
care of himself, learn like all the sages of old rolled up 
into one, and not disgrace America." 

In his something less than two years, Tommy has not 
"disgraced America" in any of the senses common to 
those words. He has " drawn " perhaps a little oftener 
than the paternal purse at first contemplated; he has 
" taken care of himself" in that definite manner only 
known to Parisians and merely suspected by the rest of 
mankind ; and if he has not learued "like all the sages of 
old rolled up into one," he has certainly acquired some 
information very likely to astonish those grave and 
reverend pundits if they could come back to take a peep 
into it. Tommy will return to America, some day, and 
astonish his father, who did not visit the Exposition — not 
even to " see how his boy got along." 

" Our Boy Tommy " is verging on seventeen, with the 
beauty of an archangel in his handsomely-cut face, blue 
eyes, and curly brown hair ; and the spirit of what some 
people call a " young devil " in the brain behind the eyes 
and under the hair ; while there are those who believe that 
when he has "sown his wild oats" (juvenile adventure 
of that costly cereal) he will be " as steady as a church 
clock " — whatever may be the reliability of that paragon 
in horology. 

" Bet your boots that I'm going to see all that is to be 
seen ; and that I can tell you what I see, about as well 
as any old foo-foo you can send over !" So wrote " Our 
Boy Tommy," in those early days of the spring when 
piled lumber, heaps of iron, packing-boxes and bloused 
workmen were about equally plenty in the great building ; 
and he kept his promise, as has before been said, to the 
discomfiture of all opponents, and in manner and form fol- 
lowing — a few ameliorations being blended with a few in- 
terpolations : — 



SQ PARIS 12^ ^67. 

" You know, Gov/' thus irreverently commences the 
youngster, " that I am no chicken around Paris, as the 
Banker" (supposed to mean his respected parent) "brought 
me here in the latter part of '65, just after you had been 
here, you know, making such a guy of yourself in trying 
to talk French, and really gabbling something much moce 
like Calmuck-Tartar. Some of the greenbacks have got 
away since then ; and may be there is any part of this 
small village that I don't know ; but if there is, you'd 
better find somebody to take me there ! Stupid and dingy 
old boxes of theatres they have here, alongside of what 
we have in IN'ew York, you know — cross between a bar- 
room and an undertaker's shop, with a dash of ladies' dress- 
ing-room ; but I've been to all of 'em, until most of the old 
covies at the gates know me hke a book, and don't even 
ask me for the ' beyea dadmisyong, Mossoo !' when I hap- 
pen to forget to hand it over. 

" Some ballet at the opera, generally, though I think 
that you may have seen a little of it here, as well as in 
your own town. Les jolies jamhes^ 'poetry of motion' and 
all that sort of thing ; rather spicy, but .good after supper 
and before going to the ' virtuous couch,' besides supply- 
ing a capital study in geometry (shapes of things) and 
natural history (structure of the human animal). As for 
music — except Patti (that we gave them), they have'nt had 
much in the way of throats since I have been in Paris — 
plenty of squalling, but I've learned to ''look out for 
squalls,' and they only affect me with the ear-ache. Cut 
the opera, all but a finish up that it has sometimes ; and 
about that — a page or two nearer the end of the book. 

" Had high old times at the Gaite, while the Menken has 
been here doing her little Mazeppa. Is n't the Menken a 
peeler, though ? (don't go to making any bad puns on 
that word, for I don't mean it in that light — not even gas- 
light), and didn't I fall in love with her just a little, one 



OPEKIITG OF TEE EXPOSITION. 87 

night when Count Bob (you don't know Count Bob, but 
he is one of the boys, even if he is a Frenchman) took 
me behind the scenes and into her dressing-room, just when 
the lady was being curried off. No, I don't mean the horse^ 
but the lady, stupid ! Her maid-of-honor was just wiping 
off the little spots of dust from the silk thingamys that 
didn't hide the shape a bit, and hardly the red blood un- 
der the gauzy skin ; and ma foil (as they make us swear 
here, in French) what a shape that was I Seemed as if 
all the physicalities of perfect womanhood (aren't they big 
words, for a youngster ?) were rolled up into one thing, and 
there it was ! Where are you^ Phidias and the other old 
foo-foos that used to make women of marble ! Then La 
Menken has an eye — two of 'em, besides a pair of lips ; 
and what is it that makes a fellow, merely looking at the 
eyes, think of the lips ? See if I don't cypher out that 
problem some day, before I do the fifth of Euclid 1 But, 
fudge ! — you will not pay me for telling you all this ; and 
yet I must tell you one thing more : they say awful things 
about the Menken sometimes, and they have had an Al- 
exandre Dumas scandal here, for which somebody's head 
should have been pmiched ; and yet, though I have no 
doubt that the lady has been a little 'off color,' and though 
Mazeppa and the French Spy may not be exactly the 
thing in which we should like our sisters to 'show them- 
selves' — yet, do you know, I am not only in love, just a 
little, with La Menken, but believe that she has been ' as 
good as they make 'em,' and that she is now, and always 
has been, no light papers in the way of brains, and kind, 
benevolent, and warm-hearted to a fault. There — now 
you have my opinion ; and laugh at it, or make a mock of 
it in the American newspapers, if you dare !" 

There is no intention of doing so, Thomas ; your esti- 
mate of one of the most erratic and best-abused women in 
the world — perhaps one of the most imj^rudent, and in some 



88 PABI3 IF '67. 

regards reprehensible — ^is very nearly correct; and the 
Governor would be the last man to gainsay a word of it. 
But don't fall in love with her, Thomas. As a friend of 
mine once remarked when asked to give up his whole sum- 
mer's plans of recreation at the whim of a coquette : " It 
might be pleasant enough, but it wouldn''t pay P^ 

"May be I've been to Mabille," pursues Tommy, ''and 
may be I haven't — ask the abbe, who wouldn't let me go 
where I oughtn't to be, you know ; and ask Count Bob, 
and Fred Raikes, a jolly little London swell that has no 
end of tin, and likes to go out with 7ne, though I shall some 
day subject him to amputation of the caput if he don't 
stop calling me 'Yankee Doodle.' I have been to the 
Chateau des Fleurs, at all events, and that is not far off 
Mabille, either way. And don't they do their little cancan 
THEEE, sometimes I If they don't, they do at Asnieres, and 
I've been there / It is 'high,' the cancan is, anywhere ; and 
they don't let it down just about here. And they don't 
much, at the Balls of the Opera, which it takes a Parisian to 
know occur on the ten last Saturdays and the one last 
Tuesday before Ash- Wednesday (overhaul your English 
Church Ritual and make a note of when that day is, if you 
don't happen to know). Everybody goes to the Ball of 
the Opera ; everybody does what he pleases there ; and I 
don't know but I like it better than any of the other places, 
because a fellow can get himself up into anything he likes 
and nobody can tell how old he is and snub him about 
'beards' and other things that nobody wants. And then 
they ' don't go home till morning,' and when they do go 
home it isn't always exactly pious — do you think it is ? 
But there I go ! — you will not want to pay me for every- 
thing else than the Exposition, and have nothing of that ; 
so I must get on to it. 

" Wasn't Paris full, at just before the first of April ? 
Full wasn't any name for it, as some of your IS'ew York 



OPEN'IN'G OF THE EXPOSITION. 89 

boys used to say of a Broadway stage when it had eight- 
een inside and twelve on the roof. It was jammed — 
that's the word ! Not so many big-wigs and big-bugs as 
have already been here since ; but more people than you 
ever saw here at any one time, except old Nappy's fifteenth 
of August. Everybody had crowded in, from everywhere, 
to get what I suppose they thought would be the best of 
the thing, because it was the first. Didn't they hit it, 
though ! The big building was just about as ready to 
open, for any kind of use, as — as — well, say as ready as a 
big pie to take out and eat before it has got warm in the 
oven. (That makes me think of American pies, that I 
can't get Aere, and the result isn't comfortable — so cut it ! 
not the pie : I wish I could !) 

" The abbe and I went there only two days before (he 
has 'influence' — don't those priests have it, of course only 
for ' beneficial purposes ' — nothing else — oh, no, we never 
mention it ! — but if they did happen to like the women, 
now, wouldn't there be a gay old time) ! There were some 
things to be seen even then ; but they had a bordering of 
wheelbarrows and a coating of mallets and iron bars, with 
a few screw-drivers and spikes ; everything was half-dry 
paint, except what was half-put-up machinery ; packing- 
boxes and cases enough stood in the way to have made 
Stewart, Lord &; Taylor, and Claiiin, happy for life (bless 
the old New York dry-goods nobs ! — the Banker was in 
trade once, and we're not ashamed of it). Heaps of things 
to stumble over, and lots of chalky workmen to run 
against, so that the abbe had those dear black-stockinged 
shins of his barked like a birch tree, and I knocked off the 
end of my precious nose on an iron bracket that had not 
yet been screwed up into its place, besides getting so deaf 
with the banging and pounding that I have not been able 
to hear my tailor when he dunned me, ever since. Men 
at work everywhere (a little), and gabbling (a good deal), 



90 PARIS IN '67. 

and wbat the Banker used to say that Joseph Bonaparte, 
when he lived at Bordentown, once kicked up at a Jersey 
City hotel when he was on his way to New York — ' a 
devil of a fuss generally.' Pretty thing to open, that — 
wasn't it ? 

" May be it hadn't rained in and about Paris for the week 
or two before the Opening ; then again may be it had ! 
May be the map of Paris didn't need to be changed, so that 
what had been streets could be set down as rivers, and the 
boulevards marked as oceans ! May be the big obelisk 
in the Place de la Concorde didn't get beaten all one- 
sided by the rain knocking on it all one way, and that the 
marble horses of Marly didn't get so water-soaked that 
they were obliged to put India-rubber blankets on them to 
prevent their taking cold and going off in a galloping 
consumption I May be they didn't have to stop the foun- 
tains playing, to prevent a general deluge ; and that all the 
fish in the Seine didn't crowd in under the bridges to 
escape the rain pounding in the river, until the ragged 
boys scooped them up by the bushel in baskets, to 
find them so soaked that they wouldn't fry ! May be all 
the glazing didn't wash off the shiny hats of the red-waist- 
coated cab-drivers, and that umbrellas didn't go up {up in 
the shops as well as the streets), till the Compagnie Lyon- 
naise shut up their windows, and all the old silk and ging- 
ham skirts were ripped up and made into parapluies ! 
May be all this didn't happen, and may be it did. Ask 
Count Bob ; he wouldn't lie, except under what he calls 
'peculiar circumstances?' 

" Well, what do you think happened during the night 
before the 1st of April, as if we were all to be made bigger 
April-fools than we would otherwise have been. Send me 
back to New York ' on sight,' if it didn't stop raining 
and dry up I — just as if Nappy had been corresponding 
with tlie clerk of the weather instead of Bismarck, and 



OPEN'IN'Q OF THE EXPOSITIOIT. 91 

got Mm to let up for just that once. Fred Raikes says 
that two umbrella-sellers committed suicide by swallowing 
bunches of whalebone ribs, when they saw the sun come 
out at breakfast time ; and that the river-rats held a mass 
meeting of congratulation on the Quai d'Orsay, when they 
found that their holes were not to be more than fifty feet 
under water. This is Fred's story, I wasn't there : don't 
ask me to ' indorse ' anything more dangerous than a 
' Uttle biU.' 

" Fred tells another story, too, that you may have at 
the same price. Fred says that Nappy was seen poking 
his head out of one of the windows of the Tuileries, 
about daylight that morning, with his embroidered night- 
cap askew, and talking to Baron Haussmann, who had just 
ridden up with his feet touching the ground, on a bob- 
tailed pony. Xappy said that ' if it rained again that day, 
and things went wrong, he should go to thunder, sure !' 
Haussmann assured him that * he knew how to straighten 
things at the worst ; he thought there was room in Paris 
for one more new boulevard, to be called the Boulevard de 
la Grande Exposition, and when that was finished by tear- 
ing down a mile or two more of houses, everything would 
be lovely.' Then Nappy inquired ' if the proper direc- 
tions had been given, so that the cheers of the day would 
come in at the right places;' ' whether the American Com- 
missioners had arrived and been provided with pork-and- 
beans, whiskey and soda-water,' as also ' whether anything 
had been seen of his friend Abbott in a day or two, as 
something might occur during the day which would never 
be detailed unless the historian of Napoleon could be 
* privy ' to it. Haussmann assured him that the ' enthusi- 
asm of the workmen' had been properly manufactured, 
by promising them a loaf of bread and a bottle oi vin ordi- 
naire each, ten years hence, if they flourished then* shovels 
and pickaxes properly, and that M. Abbott was at hand, 



92 PARIS IN '67. 

having been seen the day before, bargaining with a second- 
hand dealer in the Faubourg St. Antoine, for a naii said 
to have been used in the horse-shoe of one of the camp- 
followers at Leipsic ; and the dismembered handle of an 
earthen vessel, believed to have been once in the posses- 
sion of the great emperor himself Then N"appy held up 
his hand again, to see if it rained, looked at the weather- 
cock on the northeast gable, and suggested that ' in case 
it should rain, he wished Madame Haussmann would bring 
back that umbrella from the hat-rack on the third floor, 
that Eugenie lent her a week or two before,' and that 'he 
believed that was all.' Thereupon, freezing Haussmann, 
with what was, no doubt, intended for a smile (the latter 
waving a Japanese fan in token of adieu, and riding away), 
Nappy drew in his night-cap and shut down the window, 
calling immediately afterward for ' Frangois ' and ' wax- 
pomade,' leading to the impression that the weather must 
have dampened the ends of his moustaches as well as his 
imperial spirits. 

" But, the heavens be good to us ! — as the Banker's Irish 
coachman used to say when he was the ' laste taste in life ' 
puzzled — here have I only arrived at daylight of the 
Opening morning, and see what a space I have filled ! 
Never mind, people will read what / write, if they devour 
that stuff of yours. Make one batch of this, send me 
over the pecuniary documents (for Fred and I — eiitre 
nous — ^have a nice little thing waiting), and let me show 
my best paces in another. Won't you ? That's a jolly 
old trump !" 

" Our Boy Tommy " having done so well in supplying 
an entire article without conveying a word of the matter 
intended, and thus shown his capacity for diplomatic 
service, must certainly be allowed space in the following 
paper, to say what should have been said in the present. 



IX. 

OPEMNG OF THE EXPOSITION— " TOMMY'S " 
YERSIOX. 

SECOND PAPEE. 

'' Well," pursues Tommy, " to tell you what I saw and 
not what Fred Raikes said that he saw, on the day of the 
Opening. 

"I went with the abbe and Fred. Count Bob was 
needed to fill one corner of the family carriage ; though 
they said that he swore, awfully, at being stuck away 
among the fossils, when there was something younger and 
better. I am only seventeen, you know, so I couldn't go 
it alone. Bah ! — don't I wish they only could know how 
seventeen can take care of itself! As I was an American, 
and to be (ahem!) the principal person of the party, we 
all went as Americans ; and General Dix, our Ambassa- 
dor (isn't he a brave old white-head ? and don't I wish 
that somebody would say something against him, so that 
I could practice on him, fistically ?) — the old general, though 
he had just reached France, and was, as they said, ' scarcely 
warm in his seat,' got us all the tickets and orders, and 
made all the arrangements to put us among the officials, 
and give us everything nobby. Bless his old white head, 
I say once more ! ' If any one attempts to haul down that 
flag (of truce) shoot him on the spot !' 

"But here I am, running off again ! Check me up, 
won't you? We went first, that day, Fred and I, to the 
Trocadero Hill, as the place from which the best view of 
the morning could be managed. Do you know where the 



94 PARIS IN '67. 

Trocadero Hill is f No — how should you ? — though you 
will before you have done your little Exposition and gone 
home again. Well, when you were here in '65, there was an 
ugly line of rough high bank, on the north side of the 
Bridge of Jena, opposite the dust-heapy Champ de Mars. , 
For months, now, they have been turning this into a ter- 
race sloping down to the river, — with wheelbarrows, and 
pickaxes, and shovels, and carts, and all that sort of thing ; 
and one of these long days you will see it all stone steps, 
away up from the bridge to the top, with an avenue that 
they are going to call the Avenue de le Roi de E-ome (in 
memory of that poor little light-papers that was the first 
N'apoleon's son), exactly in front of the palace and running 
back from it over the hill toward the big Arc d'Etoile. 
Splendid old view over the Seine, the Tuileries, the Lonvre, 
and all the way down to the He de la Cite and Notre 
Dame, and then over the big boiler (that's what they call 
it) in which Nappy is going to cook the visitorial goose : 
greenbacks to postage-stamps that there is such a view 
as is a view, of a fine morning, from the Trocadero Hill, 
and that it is worth remembering. 

'*'What does "Trocadero" mean?' Oh, you thought 
that you had me there, but you hadn't — not once ! When 
there were two parties fighting in Spain, a good many years 
ago, and the Johnny Crapauds helping them, they stormed 
a Spanish fort somewhere, with such a name ; and they have 
named rues and boulevards and ' places ' after everybody 
that ever fought a French battle, and after every French 
battle that ever was fought {except Waterloo !) till they 
have pretty much used up the stock of national victories 
that amount to anything, and are under the necessity, now, 
of falling back on the little ones. That is the story of the 
* Trocadero,' that nobody ever heard of on our side of the 
big pond. Bet you never did !" 

At this point it becomes necessary to check the young- 



''TOMMY'S'' VERSION'. 95 

ster in wbat may be called the " impertinence of suddenly- 
acquired information," like that which consequential green- 
horns show when they have a head-start of an hour in 
seeing Niagara or one of the great mountains. They fancy 
that they oion the thing thereafter, until the conceit is 
taken out of them. I, the Governor, have heard of the 
" Trocadero," and I should be sorry to believe that many 
other Americans had not. The French allies of the Chris- 
tinos, under the Due d'Angouleme, in the struggle with 
the Carlists, stormed the Trocadero at Cadiz, about 1830; 
and Thomas Campbell deified the Carlist " patriots " (the 
defeated and slain) in a certain poem which Tommy will 
read when his beard is grown — when he knows more and 
thinks that he knows less ; the opening line being familiar 
to most readers of English history more solid than the 
Swinburnian and Dobelly : — 

"Brave men who at the Trocadero fell I" &c., &c, 

Now let the youngster be heard once more; and let him 
keep to his relation, even if he should mingle with it what 
he calls " spice," and some of the rest of us designate as 
mild "New York slang ^' — so that he avoids dangerous 
personalities. 

" Well, I said that we went first to the Trocadero, to 
catch the ensemUe. It was a gay old one, you can take 
your small davy, though you may not think that exactly 
the word. The Champ de Mars lay just far enough away 
to keep us from seeing the things half-finished around the 
Exposition building, while the building itself shone with 
a sort of bright blueness under the morning sim ; and the 
flags of all nations made a fellow feel as if he did not 
know where he w^s born, fluttering and flapping from the 
little poles all around it ; and Nappy's imperial standard 
and the tri-color, floating eagle and ermine and white and 
red from two great gilded Moorish masts at the entrance ; 



96 PARIS IN '67. 

and inside of that a jolly rich old canopy of green silk 
and gold (I wish I had all the money that cost !) swung 
from the side-standards and covered the walk, all the way 
from the Grande Porte to the palace door — not much less 
than a quarter of a mile ; and the detached buildings and 
' annexes ' in the park, a little bit of everything from ' all 
creation and part of Becket,' but half of them ginger- 
breaded with gilding, and chopped into oriental fragments, 
and the other half odd enough in shape to set the eyes 
dancing like paper-jacks ; and crowds of people fluttering 
about like so many crows in the biggest cornfield in the 
world — in the park, over the bridge, down the quays, on 
the little boats steaming up and down the Seine — every- 
where and all over ; and away beyond, the stunning big 
palaces (the Louvre and the Tuileries), stretched out like 
so many jointed snakes with humps at the joints ; and 
Cleopatra's Needle (she must have been a screaming old 
seamstress to use that ! — wonder why she didn't get a 
sewing-machine?) looking like an old Roman sword, 
point-upward, in among the white horses and the fountains 
of the Place de la Concorde ; and the Madeleine, my little 
beauty, seeming at the distance so neat and so bright that 
it might have been a new toy brought home to us babies 
only that morning ; and over behind the great building, 
the dome of the Invalides sticking up like a broken limb 
with splints around it (confound those scaffoldings ! — what 
did the foo-foos have them there for, this year of all 
years ?) ; and away up the river, Kotre Dame trying to 
make itself seem nearer by looking like two great piles 
of houses heaped one on the top of the other ; and — well, 
I think that is about all that I remember just then, except 
the fellows with the wheelbarrows and shovels, workins: 
away on the Trocadero Hill. You may not see it in that 
light. Gov.; but it seems to me that that little bit of de- 
scription isn't to be sneezed at by a man with no nose, if 



''TOMMY'S'' YEESIOIT. 97 

it icaa only seventeen that did it ! Eh, what do you say 
to that, old steel pens and foolscap ?" 

Only this, Thomas — that irreverence towards people 
beyond your own age seems to be suspiciously evident 
again ; and that though you are a bright boy, Thomas, you 
shouldn't — really you shouldn't. For who knows but you 
may some time go on the Bourse or tumble into Wall Street, 
where, if they don't read Scripture much, or know very well 
what I mean, there are hears — bears that eat up juvenile 
people, Thomas, when they attempt to go against the " old 
ones." Proceed, Thomas. 

" Well, when we had enjoyed view enough from the 
Trocadero, we went down the hill to the Pont de Jena, 
through the crowd of workmen who were just then getting 
their little flags in order, to do their little show before 
Nappy himself. There, at the bridge, was a time, a high 
old time, with something to spare. Everything in the 
shape of a carriage, a wagon, or a cart, was setting down 
visitors, or carting them over and dumping them out on 
the other side ; and everybody that couldn't or wouldn't 
ride, was shambling along, walking, rolling, dragging, 
getting over the ground somehow, but as if they didn't 
quite know where they were going; all eyes on the big 
building ahead, as if there had never been such another 
old boiler since creation (and you bet there hadn't !), and 
never was going to be such another day until the last 
t horn blew. Well-dressed, ill-dressed, scarcely dressed at 
all — broadclothed, bloused, in baggy oriental costumes ; 
Englishmen in tight trousers and short coats, with whisk- 
ers — oh, my ! such whiskers — where are you, lap-dogs' ears ! 
Our people, Americans (weren't there lots of them there, 
though), with the best hats of any, and enough cloth in 
one suit to do up a whole family on this side ; once in a 
while an out-westerner, slab-sided and rongh-faced, with 
bad clothes ; but oh ! what a customer to run foul of! And 
5 



08 PARIS /.Y '67. 

then a Yankee, tbinner-faced than the other, and not so 
much meat on his bones; but his arms and legs all the 
time wobbling as if he was a machine that had just been 
patented and wanted everybody to see him go ! Here 
and there a nigger, with white eyes that made the rest of 
him blacker than charcoal, and got up — oh, my stars and 
garters ! — weren't they got up, especially in the way of 
shirt-collars and tight coats ? And didn't they gabble 
French as was French, especially the N^ew York darkies ? 
'Bong joor, mong amy! — how you was, Sam? Ki yi! 
Monsus fine mornin'. Allay voo ay la grand 'Sposition, 
mounseer ? Wee, pardong — nuffin else ! How's Jim ? ' 
That was about the style of it ; but don't you dare to 
believe that the niggers didn't see the ridiculousness of 
the thing better than many of the whites did. 

" Then there would be a pig-tailed Chinaman, with his 
funny little eyes and parchment face ; and a handsome, 
tall Arab, with his fiue moustache, nut-brown face, and 
splendid eyes, that, by George, would make a fellow mighty 
careful — wouldn't they? — how he let him come around his 
girl too often, when he hadn't fine eyes and moustach^ ! 
And then a black Turco, white-turban ed, with his crooked 
scimetar as broad as a hay-scythe, his face ugly wrinkles 

and the d I's temper, and his bag-breeches above the 

knee making up for the stockinged shanks and splay feet 
below; and a Persian, brown, white-dressed, and clean- 
looking, as if they had some of the sunshine of their fire- , 
worship still on them, but ready to cut ofi" your head, at a 
moment's notice, with the crooked knife in his girdle ; and 
a low-caste Egyptian, more than half Ethiopian, with no 
more clothes than the law allows ; and a copper-colored 
Egyptian with Caucasian face, high cap, and robes all the 
way down to his feet (the abbe says that he was a Copt, 
and that his race built the pyramids) ; and then a big 
Kussian, all long beard and round cap, handsome enough, 



''TOMMY'S'' VERSION, 99 

in a burly way, but seeming to be melting all tbe time 
and to want ice in his boots ; then a fat Dutchman, all 
smell of beer, and his pipe sticking out of his pocket, so that 
his eyes could smoke if his mouth couldn't ; and then one 
of our Indians from the far west, fierce-faced, painted, and 
greasy-looking, evidently wishing that he could tomahawk 
a few of the people who had just been giving him ' fire- 
water.' Noah's ark emptied out, just after the stoppage of 
our second 'flood,' and all the human animals that had ever 
been gathered in the highest old menagerie you ever saw! 

" Everybody had his wife out, or somebody else's wife 
— about the same thing in Paris, only more so — so Count 
Bob says ; but I must cut that, I suppose, or the Banker 
will be after me with the wrong kind of ' check ' ! Then 
all the beggars of Paris, and all the cripples from all the 
departments — all the blind, all the crooked, all the dot- 
and-carry-ones, on canes and crutches, out of all the hos- 
pitals of Europe. Police everywhere, all through the 
rest, keeping a fellow's eyes constantly changing from the 
cocked hats and really pleasant quiet faces (they are not 
the worst of 'beaks' — the sergens de ville : I have had a 
bout or two with them, in a quiet way, and they're 
' human ') down to the straight swords that seem to belong 
to the seams of their trousers, and the little silver ships 
(the arms of Paris, though without the crown) on the tails 
of their coats. A gay old scene, altogether — don't you 
believe it was ? — and wouldn't you have given something 
(if you had it) to have been ' there to see ?' 

" Hallo ! — away went the bands, or rather their music. 
Seemed to be all the brass in the world, blown and banged 
until the very old boiler shivered. 'Vive I'Empereur !' 
some of them shouted. Why the deuce couldn't they ha\e 
said it in decent English and so that they meant some- 
thing : ' Bully for old Nap. !' for instance ? 

" We were still standmg— the abbe, and Fred, and I — 



100 P^ARIS Iir '67. 

at the Grand Porte, where it opens on the broad space at 
the Bridge of Jena ; and I soon found what was the mat- 
ter. Nappy himself, with his head and tail (you bet that 
nobs like him have ' heads ' as well as ' tails ' — for don't the 
chamberlains and other dodgers go in advance ? — and 
don't that make the ' head ' of any ' old sarpint ' ?)— N'appy 
himself was coming to do his little biz,, in opening the 
house that was everything else than ready. Away they 
came ; over the Place de la Concorde, up the quays and 
over the bridge they dashed like a house afire — a squadron 
of officers of the Gent Gardes ahead, and a courier on a 
racehorse even ahead of them — the officers all uniform, 
and their heads all feathers (wonder if it made them 'light- 
headed ' ?) ; then three carriages with six horses each 
(very fine horses, many of them, but they couldn't make 
us forget the cracks that they trot out at the Central Park 
o' nice afternoons — could they. Gov. ?) ; then another cloud 
of the 'household troops' on horseback, with as brassy a 
shine as if they had all been bronze statues in motion ; 
and behind them the great tail of 'everybody and his 
first cousin.' 

" Couldn't see, at the distance, of course, who were in 
the Imperial carriages ; but we could see when they dashed 
over the bridge and prepared to alight at the Grand Porte ; 
and I can tell you about some of them. (Haven't I a right 
to give the information as my own, and get paid for it — 
even if the abbe did point out most of the nobs to me 
and tell me who they were and what they had done ? Ask 
one of your reporters, and see what he will say). 

" If I am going to stay in Paris any longer, I had bet- 
ter mention the Emperor and Empress first, hadn't I ? 
Should like to put the lady first, for I like her best ; but 
can't do it, you know ! — what would you think of ' Mrs. 
and Mr. Jones ' on a reception card ? 

"Nappy first, as he stepped down from his open coach, 



''TOMMY'S'' VBJRSION: 101 

witli the gold-laced and thingamied outriders, with a squad 
of officers all round him, and yet ' keeping their distance.' 
Nappy isn't as young as he Avas ; but the old ' Parisianers ' 
(don't let your fellows print that 'parishioners,' for they 
don't go to church, 7niic/i I) they say that he is a better- 
looking man now, than he was years ago, since his hair 
has grizzled and his cheeks fulled out, even if they look 
older and less healthy. He looks riper and more human, 
they say, if feebler. At all events, he did not look a bit 
Mephistophelean that day, with his full face (a little bloated 
in the lines), his sharp long moustaches, gray eyes and 
tell-tale hair, — in a brown overcoat, dark vest and trousers, 
the Grand Cross of the Legion — something less than a tea- 
plate — on his breast, and a solitaire diamond, of about the 
size of a piece of chalk, serving him as a breastpin. I 
don't much over-estimate the old fellow who has been try- 
ing to do iis^ and I don't say too many soft things of him ; 
but I did respect him that day, and wouldn't have asked 
much to be in his place. Believe me or believe me not, 
I did want to be an Emperor, and that Emperor, once 
iu my life, and for what the big scribblers call ' a brief 
period.' 

" As for the Empress — she wore a purple satin dress, 
long enough for two to tread on at once, and a bonnet to 
match (not to tread 07i), with a black satin cloak to crown 
all (not her head, though). She is a screamer, even now 
— you bet she is ! Fuller than she used to be, and older- 
looking, even through her enamel (for she does use the 
' email ') — so Count Bob says. May be I'm not a little 
touched around the edges, with her sweet, long face, her 
pliant waist, and look of sorrowful goodness — Oh, no! of 
course not ; though you needn't send this to the Tuileries, 
for my next ticket there might not come by telegraph if 
you did. The Prince Imperial was not with them — too 
sick, they said (not the Imperial couple — the people, 



103 PARIS IN '67. 

stupid !) ; but I've seen him, over and often — a nicish, gen- 
tlemanly, slight little fellow, of eleven or twelve, and 
small for his age, with a long nose, like his mother's, a 
smile that somehow seems to belong to low spirits, and an 
indescribable something which seems to say : ' Don't lay 
too heavy a weight on me, good people, for I'm not strong 
enough to carry it !' And then one thinks of the young 
King of Rome, that I spoke about before, and it doesn't 
cost much to be spooney about the eyes. What are you 
laughing at ? Yoic do such things sometimes, old frump 
as you are — you know you do I 

"'Who else?' You don't suppose that I am going to 
give you a catalogue, do you, of the state officers who at- 
tended on and received my friend Kappy ? If you do, 
you slip up, that is all ! There were about eight thousand 
of them, more or less — chamberlains, and liveried valets, 
and grooms, and all that sort of thing. The abbe said 
that the other people in the three carriages were Gen- 
eral Rolin, sharp-faced, and gray as a badger ; Baron 
Genlis, nothing in particular; the Duchesse de Bassano, 
the Countess de Poez, and the Countess de Rayneval — all 
well-enough looking girls, to anybody who had never been 
in America; two or three other ladies, and two or three 
military nobodies — proud as peacocks, the last of 'em, just 
because they were nobodies. 

" Plenty of people who weren't nobodies, and who had 
something more than a title to recommend them, came in 
with the great couple — didn't they, though ! It was worth 
something to have the abbe, who knows everything 
French, and Fred, who knows everything English, point 
them out to me. Emile de Girardin, the editor, eager- 
faced, thin, nervous, and fidgety ; Thiers, the historian, with 
a weazen face ; George Sand (why the deuce do they call a 
woman ' George ?'), handsome as a girl, yet, and dressed like 
one, if she has written long novels and is (so the abbe says) 



''TOMMY'S'' VERSION, 103 

Madame Dudevant; Giistave Dore (can't that yonng per- 
son draw till your bair stands on end !), looking like a boy, 
but pale and nervous, and as if he was ' going it,' either at 
work or the other way ; Rossini (don't I like the 'Bar- 
biere,' especially when Figaro sings'Largo al factotum ?'), 
very old and feeble looking, in spite of his dark wig, and 
leaning both hands on his big-knobbed cane, even in the 
carriage ; Liszt, the pianist, with a face like a jack-in-the- 
box, that somehow makes a fellow shudder (wonder if 
that is the happiness of his becoming a priest !) ; the Coun- 
tess of Jersey (here Fred came in play), fit to set any body 
wild with her English girl-face and blonde curls ; and the 
English Marquis Townshend, young-looking and unquiet- 
faced, as if he wasn't quite satisfied to be only a Mar- 
quis " 

He wasn't. Tommy : he has since been filling the honor- 
able position of stock-actor at the St. James and other 
leading theatres — proving his " utility " in that conclusive 
manner, after the style of Hon. Lewis Wingfield et id genus 
omne. The Marquis is "one of the boys," to copy your 
own style. Tommy, pass on to the next. 

"The Duchess de Morny, widow of the Emperor's half- 
brother (I believe that is the relationship, though I am a 
little puzzled sometimes about who is and who is not his 
relative), slender and fair, and not looking a bit like a 
widow ; a brace of American girls in a phaeton together, 
said to be daughters of one of our commissioners, and if 
they are, better and handsomer than any other goods he 
has in charge ; then one or two of our New York celebri- 
ties — I'm not going to make them vain by naming them ; 
and- 

"Stop! I have no more time, and you no more space, 
for personal descriptions. The 'trouble was beginnmg,' 
as they say at some of the minstrels,' (who ought to have 
come over and made us respectable this summer, in the 



104: PARIS IN '67. 

place of mere hop-o'-my-thumbs). And a trouble it was 
— no sardines in the way of disturbance — Hail Columbia 
and the Fourth of July in noise and bustle. Down off 
the Trocaclero, where we had been looking at the others 
and not noticing them, had come a thousand or more of 
the bloused ouvriers at work there, with little tri-color 
flags stuck into their dirt-carts; and they jammed the 
whole space left by the carriages in front of the Grand 
Porte, cheering as if they really loved the man they feared 
(possibly hated — I don't know), throwing up their caps 
and making themselves a jubilant lot of dirty humbugs 
generally. Nappy froze them with a smile (as Fred says 
that he did old Haussraann) ; and one unknown presented 
Mrs. Nappy — no, I mean the Empress — with a bouquet 
something smaller than a washerwoman's basket ; and she 
made the happy mudsill who presented it a fool for life, 
by shooting him with one of her smiles ('oh, them 
eyes !'). 

" And then the workmen began yelling as if they had a 
new barricade and had just shot somebody at it ; and the 
other dirty two thousand on the Trocadero caught up the 
shout about nothing, and helped them along ; and the crowd 
on the bridge, and at the Grand Porte, and around the big 
boiler, all took a hand in, principally because they had no 
special reason to halloo ; and a cannon banged away some- 
where, and other cannon replied to it, away over at the T.uile- 
ries ; and three hundred bands of music (more or less, again) ! 
struck up three hundred or less of different tunes ; and in 
the Exposition building, amid it all, you could hear the 
hum as somebody let on the steam and set all the wheels 
and spindles and other thingamys^whirring away to infin- 
itesimal smash ; and, to cut a long story short, things were 
lively generally, and the imperial bird (not the eagle — the 
one that laid the golden Qg^) held a highly elevated posi- 
tion at that particular moment. How's that, Gov., I ask 



''TOMMY'S'' VERSION-. 105 

you again — anything neat and appropriate in the way of 
verbal daguerreotypes ? 

" l^appy and his immediate suite were at length inside 
the great Exposition building. I am glad that I have got 
him there at last, as no doubt he was at that moment ; for 
I am tired — aren't you ? Now to the reception, which I 
must give what the girls (they say) give their hair when 
too lazyto comb it — ' a sleek and a promise ;' for I am a 
second time overrunning space, and how are you off for 
patience ? 

" Well, it was at the grand entrance, opposite the Grand 
Porte, near to where that entrance cuts the gallery running 
round the outside circle (can you understand all that ? if 
not, you know the alternative !)' that the reception was 
given to the Emperor, he being made the visitor for the 
time, where he should have been the host ! That is my 
idea, any way ; though perhaps there being a ' host of peo- 
ple ' prevented any other being necessary. But of course 
you wish to know who received him ; and as the abbe 
and Count Bob and I ' took precedence ' of ' His Imperial 
Majesty,' who should know better than we ? 

" We all expected to see the fat, jolly face of Prince 
Napoleon there ; for who had a better right than he who 
had done so much to give the Exposition shape and suc- 
cess ? He was not there ; another fat face (and a less no- 
table one, so the abbe said), was there in its place — that 
of Prince Murat, dumpy, gray, idle-looking, and not very 
heavy papers in the way of principality. Near him was 
the Duke of Leuchtenberg, representing the Czar of Rus- 
sia ; he (the duke, not the Czar — confound this tangling 
language), a tall, pleasant faced young man, no more a 
Russian than a Cossack, but, if my memory does'nt play 
tricks, a relative of the Emperor, through his mother, and 
only connected with the Czar by marriage. Then the 
Prince of Orange, who will some day be King of Holland, 
5* 



106 PARIS IIT '67. 

thoiigli he had better wake up first, or he won't know it ; 
and the Count of Flanders, heir-presumptive (I think) to 
the throne of Belgium, his pleasant and v/ide-awake Co- 
burg face showing that Belgium still has the best of it in 
the division of the two countries. Then two more ladies 
whom you will like to hear something about — the Prin- 
cess Mathilde, elderly, plain-looking, and not a bit ginger- 
breaded, without a suspicion of her evening parties, bad 
hours, and jolly reputation — and sweet little blonde Anna 
Murat de Mouchy, the pet kitten (that's what Count Bob 
says) of all Paris and the court. 

" Then, a little further on, some people yet a little more 
* official' received old Nappy over again, just as if he was 
being continually ' paid out ' and ' taken in.' (Wonder if 
he is.) Rouher, prime minister, stony-faced, broad-figured, 
and kind-looking ; gray old Marshal Vaillant, with a face 
looking like a monitor just out of battle, and (his breast, 
not his face) speckled all over with decorations ; and over- 
shadowing them as if they were pigmies and he was a 
tree that they stood under, Fred's tall friend, Baron 
Haussmann, with a face in which the keen fox of command 
seemed to be all the time trying to peep out through the 
quiet lamb of habitual subserviency ; and Pietri, the other 
prefect — him of police (whom the emperor complimented) ; 
and Duruy, who looks after the schools (such as they are ! 
you ought to know what Count Bob says of them !) ; and 
a few others whom I don't mention, for the double reason 
that I don't know anj^thing about them, and that they 
don't amount to a row of pins! 

"Did I tell you that I was almost done ? JSTo ? — then I 
am nearer ' done ' than any ' biftek ' that I have had since 
I came to this gay old land of raw-meat, wine cheaper 
than water, and bread by the yard. When you have the 
story of the receptions, you have almost that of what they 
called the ' Opening.' I have before spoken of the high 



''TOMMY' S'' YERSIOK, 107 

gallery, railed on both sides, running around the outside 
circle. Around this gallery, just completed, and with no 
goods on it, except a few of the oriental thingamys, to 
break the contour, stood a dozen or less of circular pavil- 
ions, over or nearly over the national departments below ; 
and at each of them stood the official commissioners from 
a particular nation, very much got up in evening dress and 
white kids, except such as wore oriental frippery and noth- 
ings, and looking, as I fancied, about as happy and at their 
ease as so many country boys rammed into tail-coats and 
tight gloves, and sent to a full-dress party. Ornamental 
people, they are, you bet; and perhaps most of the over- 
weighted commissioners weren't figure-heads of elegance ! 
At all events, many of them didn't know what to do with 
their hands ; some of them stared through the building at 
some other one away oif in the world of imagination, and 
the balance twiddled their thumbs to show that they were 
not embarrassed — oh, no ! 

" It was along and among these groups of commissioner 
botherations from the different countries, that Nappy and 
his cava s2?osa, with their head and tail, made their little 
promenade of about a mile, stopping at each station to do 
a little shaking hands, to have a little very bad French 
fired at them in the way of addresses and felicitations, and 
to pretend to examine the whirling wheels and half- 
unpacked things below ; while the music brayed and 
squealed, the wheels and spindles buzzed and hummed, the 
hammers of the workmen banged and clashed ; people 
shouted and cheered at the wrong times ; tuft-hunters 
made fools of themselves in trying to force for a moment 
into an imperial presence and notice ; quiet and dry peo- 
ple smiled loudly in corners ; and a crowd that would have 
made an unit of the locusts of Egypt rushed along behind, 
near enough to have crushed off the 'tail' of the cortege 
close to the roots, had that ' tail ' been a real one of flesh 



108 ^ PARIS IIT '67. 

and fur, or even of silk or merino. The Eemperor tried to 
be friendly every wtiere, but seemed to me to be stiff, bored, 
and distrait ; the Empress smiled sweetly on everybody, 
yet her smiles looked hollow and moonlighty, for she was, 
no doubt, thinking of Josephine and the sick little Prince 
Imperial ; and so, above such a scene, below, as you may 
stake your valuable existence that no man ever saw before, 
and down amid the half-unpacked boxes, and among hang- 
ing shelves, and statues unerected, and wealth run mad, 
and splendor in a worse mess than nature was when Satan 
(the first Mephistopheles ; you know they call J^appy the 
second) went ' floundering over chaos ' — so the round was 
made, the Opening accomplished, and the show came to an 
end. 

" You will expect me to say something of the United 
States Commissioners especially, and how they comported 
themselves. Don't you wish I might ! They were a terri- 
bly mixed up lot, about two to each article on exhibition, 
and some of the best and some of the worst that could 
have been selected. ' Who were the best and who were 
the worst ?' Discover that for yourself, by what you know 
of the people and the dailies tell of the names. I know 
that Dr. Evans got the sweetest and the softest smile from 
the Empress (poor old girl ! — she probably has good reason 

to be fond of doctors !) ; that leddened like 

a schoolboy ; seemed to have stolen some- 
thing, without quite time to hide it away ; 

kept his lips going all the while, as if he wished to say 

something and dared not ; and split his 

new white gloves all to smithereens in the effort to applaud 
BO that the imperial ears might hear him. Ask those who 
were present, and pick out the personalities at your leisure. 

" Nothing else worth mentioning, even if I haven't men- 
tioned half. They all lived through it. It didn't rain, all 
day; so that I have no means of knomng whether Mad- 



''TOMMY' S'' VERSION. 109 

ame Haussmann sent home Eugenie's umbrella. JSTeither 
do I know whether, as Fred alleged, one of the Japanese 
Commissioners committed hari-kari as part of the official 
programme, and bad to be taken up and carried away in 
a basket ; and a Yankee clock-maker sold a seven-day patent- 
lever to the Duke de Leuchtenberg, right under the nose of 
the Emperor, and in the midst of his speeches ; and a Turk- 
ish Pasha eloped with three frail beauties to replenish his 
harem; and a North American Indian scalped *one of the 
Empress's maids of honor, and bore the trophy away to his 
wigwam in the Champ de Mars. All this may have 
occurred ; I didn't see it ; but then I didn't see a good 
many things, you know ! I do know that the Great Expo- 
sition was open ; that my old Nappy and his handsome 
half, the work done, first lunched at the Imperial pagoda 
that they caU a ' pavilion,' and then went back to the Tuil- 
eries, happy, with bad headaches and the proud conscious- 
ness that they had inaugurated the biggest thing out, as 
well as the biggest thing in ! 

" There, Gov., that is the whole story, told my way. 
Does it suit ? I hope so, for you are not likely to get 
another of that sort. As for the things that happened 
afterward, ask anybody else, or tell what you have seen 
yourself. I am tired ; besides. Count Bob and I have a 

little appointment at , well, never mind lohere Count 

Bob and I have our little appointment. Addlo inio! as 
they say at the opera. My bankers (not the Banker) are 
John Munroe & Co., No. 7 Kue Scribe (clever fellows, 
who keep an American reading room and take care of 
American letters, as well as cash drafts and change money 
for us) ; and I don't care how soon you communicate with 
them, finaticially. Once more, addio mio carol 'May 
your shadow never be less,' as my friend the Bey of Tunis 
originally remarks ; and the Lord knows that it needn't 
be larger than it was the last time I saw you I " 



110 



PARIS IN '67. 



To which the Governor only takes occasion to remark 



that the world 
Tommy." * 



progresses, and to add, " Good by, 



* p. S. — While this volume was in press, another letter was received from the 
youngster, containing a brief but important communication, and one showing how 
wise was my last remark — how very fast we are moving. It was nothing less than 
a conundrum of this atrocious character : " Why is my friend Nappy, whenever he 
appears in public, like poor Artemus Ward used to be ? D'ye give it up ? Because 
he is always expected to ' speak a. peace.'' " Tommy adds, " How's that ? " I decline 
to answer. I may publish the experiment on public patience, but I must be excused 
from commentilig upon it. 



X. 



THE GREAT EXPOSITIO:sr BUILDING— PRUSTCIP ALLY 

WITHOUT. 

The location of tlie Champ de Mars having been briefly 
and hurriedly indicated, and its historical associations 
glanced at, a much more extended and difficult task re- 
mains, in the attempt to convey to eyes that have neither 
looked upon it actually nor pictorially, any idea of the 
great building and its surroundings, already, within the 
limited time since their erection, visited and commented 
upon by more persons than have ever gazed, within the 
same space, upon any single work from the hand of man. 

To describe at all intelligibly, the most colossal of 
buildings, may well be held the most colossal of tasks, 
and a modest man would shrink from the effort. The 
Governor, whatever his other weaknesses, is not modest — 
at least he has failed to convey the general impression that 
he is so ; and yet he pauses and hesitates. 

" Oh, yes ! your pictures and descriptions are all very 
well, to those who have seen the reality and only need 
them as reminders, but they don't amount to that'''' (with a 
snap of the fingers) "to us who have not seen it at all." 
So said a stay-at-home lady to me the other day, when I 
was " trying it on ; " and I am somewhat painfully appre- 
hensive that she was as correct as bitter. Nevertheless, 
as we always say when we have been checked or puzzled, 
but not conquered 

The Champ de Mars, as has already been mentioned, 



112 PARIS I2T '67. 

covers an area of something more than one hundred acres. 
The Exposition "building does not appear to stand in the 
middle of it, but really does so, having its length with the 
long direction of the field, its shape that of a parallelogram 
of four by live, with the corners widely rounded off, and 
the general effect that of a very wide oval, which it is not, 
owine to the flattening of the extreme circumferences. 
The length of the building is something over fifteen hun- 
dred feet (seven and a-half ordinary blocks of a Kew 
York street — say from Tompkins Market, upper side, to 
the upper end of the Academy of Music) ; and its width 
is about twelve hundred and fifty feet (or from Broadway 
to First Avenue, at the same portion of the city) ; the area 
occupied being about thirty-five acres of the whole one 
hundred. 

If this immense space was covered by a hidlding, prop- 
erly so called, all the erections of ancient and modern 
times would be dwarfed into absolute insignificance — for 
St. Peter's, St. Paul's, the Duomo of Milan, and the Stras- 
bourg Cathedral, could all be hidden away in it. But, 
unfortunately for the cause of architectural art, though 
fortunately for the practical and the useful, the utile has 
been more consulted than the dulce in planning and ar- 
ranging this building that is not a building — this magni- 
ficent covered yard or shed.' 

In all previous international exhibitions, the building 
has been almost as much, and quite as much considered, 
as the collection. In the English one of 1851, while Prince 
Albert and his coadjutors arranged the one, Mr. Paxton 
(afterwards and for that very service Sir Joseph), looked 
after the other quite as successfully; and the ''Great 
Exhibition Building in Hyde Park " had nearly as many 
columns of admiring comment bestowed upon it as all the 
industrial and art treasures there gathered. Glass and 
iron were just being apotheosized in connection, and the 



TEE EXPOSITION BUILDING. 113 

really great architectural genius of Chatsworth came near 
to overshadowing even McCormick's reaper and the 
yacht America. And in connection with the building 
the English have retained the same fact and idea ; for 
to-day, marred as it is by the fire which a year and a-half 
ago destroyed one entire end, the Crystal Palace at Syden- 
ham — enlargement of that in Hyde Park — is more of a 
wonder of beauty, and a subject of conversational interest 
to visitors, than all the marvels of nature and art gathered 
within its mammoth compass. 

The same feature marked the American Exhibition of 
1853, second on the list, however inconsiderable beside 
that of 1851. Beauty in building was quite as much con- 
sidered as size or convenience ; and w^hen, after the rejec- 
tion of the plans of Sir Joseph Paxton, Mr. Downing, and 
others, Messrs. Carstensen and G-ildemeister laid their 
plans for the work, they were quite as evidently arranging 
for a " thing of beauty" as for what Elihu Burritt called 
it — " the manger-cradle of labor." They succeeded better 
in that regard than did the managers in arranging an 
exhibition; and till the day of its unfortunate destruction, 
the ISTew York Crystal Palace stood like a colossal soap- 
bubble that had suddenly alighted on the earth, not too 
convenient and always unsubstantial, but an advance even 
upon Paxton — one of the loveliest creations in airy archi- 
tecture that ever sprung from human brain and hand. 

The first French Exposition, again, had many of the 
same features. In portions far more solid than its prede- 
cessors, the Palais d'lndustrie in the Champs Elysees has 
the same inconveniences for the sake of height and dignity, 
observable in both the English and American. Far more 
costly than the Hyde Park Sydenham Palace, and only 
second to it in outer effect, the Palais d'lndustrie stands 
to-day, and will no doubt long remain, a glorious reminder 
of the earlier days of international exhibitions, and the 



114: PARIS IN '67. 

theatre of some of the most splendid spectacles of that of 
the current year, — but as the central scene and figure of an 
Exposition like that of 1867, as antiquated as one of the 
pyramids — so fast do we travel, lately, not only in achieving 
the new, but in setting aside the old ! 

It has already been suggested that the Exposition Build- 
ing is more a covered yard than a building proper. This 
involves, of course, the entire absence of any j^retence to 
architectural dignity or proportion ; and so much will be 
conceded, with reference to the structure itself, on all hands. 
Some of the epithets bestowed by those thoroughly familiar 
with it will illustrate this fact, and possibly convey a little 
idea in addition. 

The Emperor, as alleged, looked upon the affair, when 
nearly finished, very much as Frankenstein may have gazed 
upon the monster he had created, or as the child believed 
that God must have contemplated the first elephant — with 
a shade of tremor ; and forestalled after-ridicule by naming 
it *' the great gasometer " — a structure to which it cer- 
tainly bears some resemblance, in its circular form, the 
thinness and superior height of the outer circle to anything 
within, and the consequent appearance of a mere wall or 
shell. Says St. Edward (of my French experiences of 
1865), in a warning letter of May : " The Exposition Build- 
ing is as flat as a pancake, as sprawling as a fellow just 
under the table with three bottles, and about July will be 
as hot and uncomfortable as an oven." (Except once or 
twice, for an hour or two, the prophecy lacked fulfillment ; 
the building was rarely hot to discomfort.) 

One of the very best of the American Parisian corres- 
pondents (" C. B. S.," of the New York Baity Times, 
whom I may again have more than one occasion to quote) 
hits it ludicrously ofi*, more in effects than in shape, imme- 
diately after the opening: " The building itself * * is 
a combination of railroad-station and bazaar — what is not 



THE EXPOSITION BUILDING. 115 

refreshment-room being shop. Ton lose your way with 
great facility, and recover bearings by going in any given 
direction and then working out of it. The advantages for 
taking cold are remarkable. At every corner there is an 
east wind and a policeman. Both are attentive." There 
is real description, however, in what follows : " There is an 
outside garden and an inside garden. The various depart- 
ments radiate from the latter, expanding fan-like for each 
nationality. The part allotted to the United States is 
somewhat more than a sandwich and not quite a slice. 
Where the oval is smallest, it looks like a passage ; then 
it assumes the proportions of a closet, and so slips easily 
to the size of a workshop, where we [" C. B. S." is a U. S. 
Commissioner] hope to make some striking effects." 

A droll contributor to Harper's WeeJdy comes nearer to 
the truth than he knows, in the following bit of atrocity : 
" The shape of the building is, as you are aware, round ; 
except the square part, which is oblong. For fear some of 
your readers may not fully understand its construction, I 
will be more explicit. Thus : take an ordinary link of 
sausage and lay it flat on a table ; then take another link 
large enough to enclose the first link ; then take another 
still larger ; and keep on taking them until you have 
sausages enough — and there it is, simple enough. The 
space between each of the links as they are laid in a nest, 
one inside the other, is the aisles ; and all the curious 
things and stuff you see in walking through the aisles is 
your sausage. The avenues cut the sausage up into pieces, 
the inside ones into mouthfuls, so to speak, and of course 
they get larger as you go out to the circumference." 
Allow the outside link to be of much stouter proportions 
than the others — say a Bologna beside the ordinary canine 
and feline mixture known in American markets as " coun- 
try sausage " — and some aid will really have been given to 
understanding the architectural novelty. 



116 PARIS 12^ '67. 

But what, in plain earnest, is the Great Exposition 
Building really like, all this while ? And what is it, as to 
intent, arrangement, and capacity ? Not one who has been 
present at the Exposition but feels himself quite capable 
of answering at once and clearly ; very few, it is probable, 
who would not succeed about as well as our English friend 
in giving the whereabouts of the Champ de Mars, and 
explain more or less in this lucid manner : " What is it 
like ? Oh, that is easy enough explained, you know. 
You see, there is a beastly great square building — no, it is 
round — no, it is 'arf-and-'arf — that's it, you know. And 
then there is another one inside of it, or outside of it, 
whichever you like ; and another one inside or outside of 
that ; and you cut across from one to another, and there is 
the bloodiest quantity of all kinds of things there, and 
don't you see — that's the Exposition." 

For the building, as it is, there seem to be four persons 
more or less responsible. " First, in honor as in place " (to 
quote Wilfred, of Ivanhoe), the Emperor, who appears to 
have conceived the original idea of a building which should, 
as he said, " contain all the wares of the world," while 
avoiding that inconvenience of lifting awkward weights to 
second stories, and preventing that tiring of the limbs of 
visitors from constantly ascending and descending stair- 
cases, inevitable from the shapes of previous exhibitionary 
buildings. " All on one floor, and no confounded stairs !" 
as some of the good housewives are said to prefer their 
mansions in sections where land for extended ground-floors 
is plenty and cheap, and where the personal doing of work 
elsewhere intrusted to servants, makes the appreciation of 
"leg-weariness" more general. The material and general 
shape of the building are also understood to be the result 
of the Emperor's ruminations on the erections of Sir Joseph 
Paxton, combined with his own experience in the Palais 
d'Industrie. 



THE EXPOSITION BUILDING, HY 

Prince Napoleon, originally spoken of as the head of the 
enterprise, and Chief of the Imperial Commission, but for 
some reason kept in the background throughout — Prince 
Napoleon is said to have devised the plan of the transverse 
arrangement of States, through which the orange (to 
change a figure) has been divided into unequal slices from 
seeds to rind, and ^appropriated between one and another ; 
and the circular arrangement of goods, through which the 
promenader following one circle has the opportunity of 
comparing most of the works of different nations in the 
same line of industry or art. 

After the Prince, if not in advance of him, came Baron 
Haussmann (lately elevated to the dignity of having a boule- 
vard in the Faubourg St. Germain named after him). Chief 
of the Bureau de Demolition as Prefect of the Seine, and 
the Emperor's right-hand man in most of the great works 
of the past few years — and Mons. Le Play, an unofficial 
political economist, with marked executive ability, who has 
been aiding and abetting Baron Haussmann throughout. 
Between the two, or three, or four, they have swamped 
the engineers and actual architects, whose names have not 
much better chance of ever being known to the world than 
has that of the old Roman master-mason who hoisted the 
mighty bulk of what is known as " Trajan's Column." 

Glass and iron, of course, play a part in the great Expo- 
sition Building only second to that which they played at 
Hyde Park, and are now playing at Sydenham. It is a 
secondary part, however ; for the outer circle has its bases 
and foundations laid in stone, and so has the innermost of 
all, leading to a suspicion hereafter to be noticed, of an 
intended permanency for at least some portions of the 
erection. The inner portions are of glass, wood and iron 
only, with roofs of glass that are not reputed to be too 
strong, and that certainly suggest only transient use. 

The shape of the building has already been conveyed, so 



118 PARIS IN '67. 

far as practicable. This borne in mind, the next step is to 
guess (with Yankee privilege — ^no data at hand for this) 
at the height of the outside front or fa9ade, uniform 
throughout. This may be sixty to seventy feet, as the circle 
or corridor, which it forms within, is eighty-five feet high, 
and one hundred and fifteen wide. Less than one-third of 
the way up the outside, all the way around, springs a wide 
piazza roof, of corrugated iron, with the portes, doors, and 
windows in single row below, while above, and extending 
to the eaves (if such things there are), the portes rear 
themselves at the entrances, and a row of round-headed 
"windows, three clustered between each of the great sup- 
porting columns, give light to the corridor and airiness 
to the appearance of the structure. The roof of this 
higher and outer circle, of glass and iron, is a flat round 
with center ridge, supported without by openwork iron 
brackets or girders, extending from the great columns out- 
side to those inside, each girder square at the top or high- 
est point, and producing the oddest of effects in the idea 
that the roof must be of cloth, leather, or some soft sub- 
stance, and that these are hoops (like those of a cloth- 
top wagon), necessary to keep it in shape. This, again, is 
relieved, however, by the outer supporting columns run- 
ning to a considerable height above the roof, and formed 
into flag-staffs, from which float and depend little colored 
bannerols, giving color and lightness to what would other- 
wise seem heavy and ungraceful, as well as plain. 

The inner circles are three in number, all much lower 
than the outer, and all with pointed, pitched roofs, broken 
at the eaves for ventilation ; of course, all this unobservable 
from without, and forming no part of the ensemble, near 
or at a distance, except from some great elevation. Across 
these interior roofs, from the outer to the inner, run trans- 
verse roofs, corresponding with the twelve principal en- 
trances or cross-galleries; three divergent at either end of 



THE EXPOSITION BUILDING, II9 

the building, and three parallel at either side. The inner 
circle of the buildmg, surrounding the Central Garden, 
though so much lower than the outer, is finished like it, 
•with round-headed doors and windows, has stone founda- 
tions and bases, has two bannerolled flag-staffs on an eleva- 
tion at either end (highest next the Grand Porte), and 
seems likely to be retained in the event of any part of the 
erection finding permanent use. 

The entrances to and through this immense sprawl of 
structure naturally come next in order ; and it is worthy 
of note, as a most commendable feature, that there are no 
cids de sae, or closed passages; that through any pas- 
sage one can go direct from center to circumference, or 
the reverse ; that (in spite of " C. B. S.") the facilities for 
losing oneself are not remarkable, but the reverse. 

It will have been noticed by careful readers or observ- 
ers, that the two ends of the great building front the Pont 
de Jena, over the Seine, on the northwest, and the Ecole 
Militaire, on the Avenue de la Mothe Piquet, at the other 
extremity. The Grand Porte proper — the official and 
royal approach — is at the river entrance, from the Pont de 
Jena. The second in importance is the Porte de I'Ecole 
Militaire opposite, on the southeast. Besides these, there 
are the Port Kapp, the Porte Labourdonnaye, and the Porte 
St. Dominique, on the up-stream, or northeastern side, on 
the Avenue de la Bourdonnaye ; and the Portes Kleber, 
Suffren and Dessaix, at the southwestern, on the Avenue 
Suffren; while at the four corners are the Portes de la 
Gare, d'Orsay, Dupleix, and Tourville. The entrance to 
the grounds at all these portes, it must be observed, is to 
the Champ de Mars, all of which is included in the Expo- 
sition, and so to the Exposition itself without additional 
charge or hindrance. Only one portion of the grounds 
remains a " holy of holies " beyond this admission — the 
Pare Fran^ais (hereafter to be spoken of), with its flowers 



120 PARIS IN '67. 

and music, occupying the extreme southeastern corner of 
the Champ ; while to certain of the buildings, scattered 
through the grounds, many of them exhibitionary in their 
occupation, as the Chinese, the Japanese, &c., half a franc 
or a franc is necessary as an open sesame. 



XL 



THE GREAT EXPOSITION BUILDING— INSIDE AND 
ARRANGEMENT. 

To those who have been familiar with the "buildings of 
any of the other great exhibitions, few words are neces- 
sary to convey the appearance of the French, so far as the 
structure itself is concerned. Iron and glass in compart- 
ments and roofing, and wood in the arrangement of floors 
and fittings, produce nearly the same ensemble every- 
where; and the Exposition Building has nothing extra- 
ordinary in those regards. At no point, the collection 
out of the question, will it compare favorably with many 
of the vistas presented by the Sydenham Palace, or by the 
perished American building ; while it is indisputable that 
it is far beyond them and all others in the matter of con- 
venience, comprehensiveness, and fitness for its use ; and 
that another newspaper correspondent (of the Wb7'ld) was 
right when he said that "greater magnitude, or the im- 
prisonment of more space within the walls, was probably 
never before attained by any structure whose roof alone 
measures acres of air." The collection included in the 
view, of course no present or past erection can for a mo- 
ment come into competition with it ; but of that hereafter. 

As has been suggested, there is almost no "up-stairs" 
to the great building, only one circle in which that pain- 
ful knee-bending is even once required. (Surely we have 
nothing to do, just now, with the malicious fancy of one 
of the scribblers, that the Emperor, wishing to walk often 
6 



122 PARIS IK '67. 

througli the Exposition, and renally troubled, as are some 
others of his hidney^ chose to make his disability less ap- 
parent by giving himself fewer stairs to climb, and making 
it seem that he was thus careful for his visitors !) That 
only "up-stairs" is in the outer circle, and runs nearly 
around it, only broken at some of the great entrances, iu 
the shape of a central gallery, railed on either side, a few 
articles studding it in special pavilions of oriental coun- 
tries, but its principal charm lying in the unequaled view 
from it of the machinery, labor-saving inventions, and 
works of useful art to which that great circle is devoted. 
It need scarcely be said that he who has not " seen the 
Exposition " from this ground of vantage has not seen it 
at all; and that — the "floor sights" of the rest of the 
building partially or quite exhausted — this has proved one 
of the most delightful and most fashionable of promenades. 
From no other point could either the immense extent of 
the building within, the wildemiess of machinery, or the 
mass of manufactures belono-ino; to the " useful arts " 
(" arts usueV), be so well seen and appreciated. 

It has before been hinted that the credit of origina- 
ting the plan of circular and transverse allotments of 
States and departments, is claimed for Prince Napoleon. 
The claim is no light one, for whomever set up ; for when 
the assertion has been made that the building is the best 
ever devised for the favorable exhibition of an immense 
multitude of incongruous articles, it next remains to be 
said that probably upon no other plan could the same 
variety of articles be so well placed for intelligent review. 
It is, of course, somewhat difficult to convey to the eye and 
the mind, without sight or diagram, the particular plan 
pursued ; and yet the task must be briefly attempted. 
Perhaps one of the best original cues maybe obtained from 
the explanation made by the official commission, with 
reference to this arrangement. 



THE EXPOSITION BUILDING. 123 

"The length of the central garden," say the commis- 
sioners, " is one hundred and forty-four metres by forty- 
eight broad. The great difference between the length and 
the breadth is such as to admit of an equal distance 
between each alley or transverse walk leading through the 
palace from the garden to the park. These walks, whether 
straight or radiant, are exactly one hundred and fifty 
metres in length. Whichever direction is taken, each of 
these alleys traverses the circular galleries and gives a sur- 
vey along a radius of one hundred and fifty metres of 
the wbole series of productions exposed by any particular 
nation. If, on the contrary, it is preferred to study similar 
productions from different countries, instead of following 
their diversity in any one country, the object is attained by 
abandoning the transverse alleys and following the cir- 
cular galleries which encircle the palace at different lati- 
tudes, and any one of which will be found as closely as 
possible following a corresponding line of production 
throughout its whole length." 

To this it must be added that the following general 
arrangement (occasionally a little varied on account of 
the presence or absence of certain peculiar productions 
of a given country) seems to have been pursued in appro- 
l^riating the various circles, proceeding inward. In the 
first, or great gallery, two divisions, separated by the raised 
centre : outside, instruments and proceeds of the useful 
arts, in which may be reckoned machineries and heavy 
fabrications ; inside, unmanufactured materials. In the 
second, cloths and more delicate fabrics, approaching to 
luxury. In the third and fourth, less carefully divided 
because less easy to divide, materials for works of liberal 
art, works of art themselves, books, and the more notable 
evidences of luxurious progress, the great picture-galleries 
of the Exposition holding the very inner place before pass- 
ing out into the garden. 



124 PARIS IN '67. 

Assuming that tlie two explanations convey some proxi- 
mate idea of the general arrangement, it next remains to 
ascertain (what not all the visitors to the Exposition may 
have succeeded in ascertaining) the proportion of space 
allotted to each nation, and the location in the building 
of the displays of each. 

Dividing the building, then, by the transverse galleries, 
into sixteen segments of a circle, as if a gigantic melon 
were sliced outward from the core (the central garden), 
and premising that by the peculiar arrangement the seg- 
ments each contain precisely the same space, the fol- 
lowing will be very nearly the result of the allotment: 
Commencing at the great avenue leading in from 
the Grand Porte, and moving always to the left, 
France and its colonies will be found to hold seven 
of the sixteen segments. Next, the Low Countries 
(Holland), one third of a segment. Next, Belgium, 
two-thirds — this completing the occupation of half the 
building. 

Returning to the place of original departure, and this 
time proceeding to the right, England and her colonies hold 
two and a-half segments. Next, North America (princi- 
pally the United States) has a little more than one-third 
and a little less than one-half a segment. Then about one- 
tenth of a segment each is appropriated to Brazil, South 
America, Mexico and Central America, Africa and Oceanica, 
China, Japan and Southern Asia, Persia and Central Asia, 
and Turkey. Then Russia has something less than one- 
third, and Italy something more. Then follow a tenth 
each for the Roman States, for the Danubian Principalities, 
and for Greece. Portugal has an eighth, and Spain and its 
colonies a seventh. Sweden and Norway have a fourth ; 
Denmark has an eighth ; Switzerland has a fourth ; and 
Austria follows with nearly a whole segment. Then the 
Germanic Confederation has one entire, and Prussia finishes 



THE EXPOSITION BUILDING. 125 

with two-thirds — thus conchiding the occupation of the 
remaining half of the building. 

It might well be expected that something should be 
said of the peculiar construction of different sections of 
the building, as accommodating different nationalities and 
arranged by them at will. But no limited space would 
suffice for enlargement on this point, as no limited obser- 
vation could supply the material. The widest variety is 
the rule, of course — scarcely any two nations having copied 
each other, and some attempt at national architecture being 
observable in almost every instance, and the flags and 
cognizances of different countries servino- to mark the dis- 
tinctions yet more widely. As might be supposed, while 
the plainer and more solid nations of Europe have indulged 
but slightly in what the tasteful call " ornament," and the 
plain " gingerbread," and while the United States depart- 
ment seems to have ignored the ornamental entirely, some 
of the more Southern European countries have shown a 
marked tendency towards the tropical, and the orientals 
supplied little else than the beautifully-extravagant in form 
and color. But j^erhaps no better idea of these differences 
can be briefly conveyed, than by quoting once more from 
an intelligent Parisian letter-writer ("Malakoff") in the 
New York Times : — 

"A circumstance which has not been remarked upon," 
says that writer, " because it happened naturally and 
without prearrangement, is the conformity in form, color, 
and costliness of the different temporary constructions of 
the Exhibition to the characteristics of the nation which 
put them up. These include the cases for exhibition, the 
decoration of sections and of the annexes^ and the isolated 
structures in the park. Thus the English and American 
departments are plain in form, with no surplus decoration, 
and absolutely without method as to color. Their depart- 
ments correspond more nearly to the Exhibition building 



126 PARIS 12^ '67. 

itself than the others, because it is the nut and not the 
envelope they look after. The French section is both 
showy and solid, and especially in good taste. Their colors 
vary. Austria shows gray and yellow — the national colors 
— apparently without thinking about it. Egypt and Tunis 
are recognized by their glaring colors and their Moorish 
arcades, covered with hieroglyphics. Italy is remarked by 
its quiet but very artistic decorations, and by its fine 
paintings and statuary. Turkey is prominent by its 
arcades plastered over with pottery, like so much coarse 
mosaic. Holland shows its fine colors in a system of orna- 
mentation quite unique in its kind. Russia is remarked by 
its strong raw material, and its curious but useless sculp- 
turing in poplar wood." 

It may scarcely seem legitimate to speak of things with- 
out as being " inside ;" and yet no other use is possible of 
one of the most prominent features, if not one of the most 
important. " C. B. S." has already been quoted as saying 
that '' what is not refreshment-room is shop ;" and to a 
casual observer even stronger words would seem in place ; 
for the whole immediate outside of the building, under the 
portico and along what would else be the outer promenade, 
is one endless succession of restaurants of all nations, 
interspersed with less-nameable conveniences made neces- 
sary by the usages of society — this circle supplying every 
national vice as well as every alimentary demand, and 
awaking alternately gratification at their completeness of 
arrangement, and disgust at their overwhelming number 
and prominence, their noise, clatter, chair-and-table occu- 
pation of the promenade, and general suggestion that the 
Exposition may, after all, have been merely devised as a 
speculation by the victualers and venders of French wines, 
English ale, German bier, Turkish sherbet, and American 
(alas for the juxtaposition !) gin-slings and soda-water ! 

One more feature, and that, again, outside of the build- 



TEE EXPOSITION BUILDING. 127 

ing at the same time that it is inside — the little pavilion in 
the centre of the Central Garden, and devoted to the ex- 
hibition and comparison of all the world's weights and 
measures, as well as of (what Americans cannot just now 
examine without a little tingling of the fingers) the coins, 
gold and silver, window-displayed, of that same all-the- 
world. 

And yet, perhaps, it may be more legitimately in connec- 
tion with the building than the grounds and their occu- 
pancy, to note that the most brilliant detail of the whole 
has been the canopy of green silk, fringed, and with the 
golden bees of the Bonapartes studding it, suspended by 
ropes from the bannerolled posts on either side, and form- 
ing in fair weather a covering for the grand entrance, all 
the way from the Grand Porte proper to the end of the 
Pont de Jena, past the great fountains and the Emperor's 
Pavilion, to the corresponding door of the palace. Mon- 
archs only used to walk under gilded canopies ; things 
have changed in that regard ; the commons (kings in their 
growing power) have during 1867 joined with the mon- 
archs in making gilded canopies so literally a thing of 
every day, that they scarcely excited notice or comment. 

A word, now, of the intention and destiny of the great 
building thus imperfectly indicated rather than described : — 

" The earth has bubbles, as the water hath, 
And these are of them I" 

Felicitously quoted from Shakspeare, a London wit, when 
the first Crystal Palace sprung into being in Hyde Park ; 
and both the New York Palace (entirely burned) and that 
at Sydenham (partially) have proved how unsubstantial 
that kind of structure may be, under certain conditions. 
No doubt that the body of visitors to the French Exposi- 
tion have looked upon the erection as altogether transitory ; 
and the official announcements have all conveyed the idea 



128 PARIS IN '67. 

that, opening on the first of April, the Exposition would 
close about seven months afterward — on or about the first 
of November. So it may do ; it may even be a thing of 
the past when this meets its first perusal. But, first, it 
seems highly probable, at the present writing, that no 
such close will take place, or that the shutting-up will be 
merely temporary, to permit the filling up of vacated 
places ; and, second, even if there should be an entire close 
of the building for exhibitionary purposes, beyond a doubt 
it is the intention of the Emperor to remodel it as an ex- 
tensive manufactory or group of manufactories, for which 
purpose, so well situated, lighted and ventilated, it will be 
found admirably adapted. 

In one of the opening speeches (before alluded to), the 
Emperor is known to have remarked, in substance, that 
the Champ de Mars had been celebrated in the annals of 
war, but he intended to make it even more celebrated in 
those of peace. He may merely have alluded to the celeb- 
rity certain to be acquired during the summer of 1867; 
but he is much more likely to have been giving a " dark 
utterance" to something beyond. 

England has scarcely a greater boast in the British Mu- 
seum itself than in the Crystal Palace at Sydenham ; and 
the Emperor is aware of the fact. He has a fancy for the 
retention of noble buildings, as well as their erection — as 
witness the stability of the Palais d'Industrie. The Ex- 
position of 1867 has been a magnificent moneyed success, as 
well as a magnificent advertisement of the productions of 
France. It would remain attractive for a year or two lon- 
ger, even if only national, and v/ith no crowned heads to 
draw the crowdi. France occupies, as has been shown, 
seven-sixteenths of the covered space, and nearly one-half 
the park ; she would probably be glad to fill the whole, 
with permission for occasional change, as at once a display 
and an advertisement. The Emperor, if he needs another 



THE EXPOSITION BUILDING. 129 

Champ de Mars, can easily find it, or make it : make it 
with much less trouble and expense than would be needed 
to restore the floral and arboricultural glories of the Pare 
Fran^ais, once destroyed. He loves show, as a great 
agency, and readily adds to, but is slow to detract from, 
anything that can make Paris more pronouncedly the lead- 
ing city of the world. 

The deductions from all these are that the great build- 
ing will not be destroyed, even if remodeled, and in spite 
of the rumors of its having been sold to Prussian or Bel- 
gian speculators. That probably visitors to Paris in 1868, 
or even 1869, may see most of the features that have made 
the glory of 1867, even if they do not meet a continued 
international exhibitien. And that, in the alternative, it 
is the Emperor's intention to preserve the building and 
probably the park, and establish in it, or in a remodeled 
structure with the general features retained, some immense 
gathering of practical art and labor, calculated to shed 
new luster on his forethought and inventive faculties, and 
to astonish the world quite as thoroughly as the Exposi- 
tion of 1867 has at once attracted and surprised it.* 

* During the passage of this work through the press, a part of these calculations 
have been proved fallacious, in the actual close on the 17th November. As for the 
other portion of the prophecy, " we shall see what we shall see." 

6* 



xn. 

THE PARK AND GROUNDS OF THE EXPOSITION. 

IiTever has the old axiom, that " the greater contains the 
less," been more satisfactorily proved than in the building 
and park of the Exposition. Most displays, of this char- 
acter, make the grounds sm*rounding of little comparative 
consequence ; not so in the present instance, when what- 
ever the charm of the kernel within, the rind or husk is 
found quite as appetizing. Indeed it may be said that 
take away the building and its contents, and leave the 
park, and there would remain a more attractive exhibition 
than that supplied by the former without the latter. If 
never before, on the face of the globe, there have been 
gathered in any one building so many of the products of 
different and very diverse nations, certainly never before 
has even an attempt been made at grouping the nations 
themselves, in the architecture and even the modes of liv- 
ing of many lands, as they have here been grouped and 
arranged. 

The superfices of the Champ de Mars have already been 
given in this connection — something more than one hun- 
dred acres — a fraction more than one third of the space 
covered by the New York Central Park. It is also under- 
stood that the Champ de Mars was entirely a level, used 
for parade purposes, and having the very least of preten- 
sions to any of the attractive features of a public ground. 
To-day, in shrubbery, flowers, and foliage, and in the 



THE PARK AND a ROUNDS. 131 

scarcely less difficult regard of verdure, it may compare 
with the royalest of the royal grounds of the proudest na- 
tions ; to-day, in the structures which stud it, something 
more than half a world has beeu grouped and gathered ; 
and if buildings had tongues, an architectural Babel would 
certainly be inaugurated, shaming the most polyglot of the 
performances in and around the great building. 

So far as was consistent with effect, the same calculating 
taste has been displayed in the arrangement of the park, 
notable in the interior of the building. I^ot many arti- 
ficial inequalities of surface have been created, the most 
remarkable of the few being found in the knolls and depres- 
sions of the Pare Fran^ais, at the back or southern end, 
and in the little retort-shaped lake at the front or north- 
ern, left of the grand entrance. In the first circle, imme- 
diately surrounding the building, and inside the Grand 
Boulevard, something like the shape of that structure has 
been followed, and the intersecting alleys and walks par- 
tially correspond with the entrances ; but beyond that circle 
a far greater latitude has been taken, and the outer, while 
mainly leading to the entrances, have all the irregularity 
of shape desirable in anything else than an old Holland- 
ische garden with its squarely-clipped shrubbery. 

Following the course pm'sued in giving the allotment of 
the building, the various nationalities of the park may be 
thus indicated : Leaving the grand entrance and going to 
the left, the French grounds will be found covering the 
whole space thence around nearly half the building, and 
exactly backing the French department, to the Porte de 
Tourville at the south-east corner, seven-sixteenths of the 
whole being thus occupied, without as within. Adjoining 
this come, first the Low Countries (Holland) v/ith one 
thirty-second; and next Belgium with another thirty-sec- 
ond, the eastern half being thus completed. Returning 
aojain to the grand entrance, and passing to the right, 



132 PARIS Iir '67. 

England has something less than three-sixteenths, in like 
manner backing her share of the building. Then follow, 
irregularly, the United States with two considerable plats, 
perhaps the sixth or eighth of the space allotted to Eng- 
land (though quite enough for their filling) ; Russia, Turkey, 
Persia and Central Asia, China, Japan and Southern Asia, 
Africa, Oceanica, Mexico and Central America, South Amer- 
ica generally, and Brazil in especial, all crowded into less 
than the modicum of space allowed the United States. Den- 
mark, Sweden, ISTorway, Spain, Portugal, Greece, the 
Danubian Principalities, the Roman States and Italy, all 
come next, with space corresponding to the last-named 
group. Then follows Switzerland, with half the space 
devoted to the United States ; and then follow and con- 
clude Austria, with something like a sixteenth of the whole, 
the Germanic Confederation with two-sixteenths, and 
Prussia with one — the Porte de I'Ecole Militaire being 
thus again reached and the circle completed. 

But what pen shall portray or what uninstructed eye 
imagine, the magnificent incongruity presented by the 
peculiar buildings of all nations, quaintly and irregularly 
grouped, bowered in trees and shrubbery, and bearing 
little indication of the suddeness with which they have 
sprung into place ? What except a mind of correspond- 
ing grasp and oddity, coald have devised such a grouping 
of things pole-wide in their origin ? And what would 
inevitably be the sensations of a traveler through many 
lands, uninformed as to the object of such a conglomera- 
tion, and finding himself stumbling over a Turkish mosque 
and a Chinese pagoda, the moment after he had steered 
painfully clear of an American school-house and disentan- 
gled himself from an English light-house, an Egyptian 
temple of the days of Thothmes III, and a Swiss chalet ? 
Would he not inevitably imagine that some new earth- 
quake throe had shaken the world, jumbling climes into 



THE PARK AN-D GROVIfBS. 133 

hopeless confusion, and coming nearer to the dream of the 
wild fellow who attempted to scatter the bones of his enemy 
" so that they could never be got together again for the 
Day of Judgment," than would be well consistent with 
human sanity ? 

Men travel world-wide 'to see in painful weeks what is 
here shown in the walk of a few hours — quite as much as 
to survey the beauties of nature amid which the varied 
habitations are located ; and yet thousands of visitors to 
the Exposition during the current summer, have left it, 
believing its marvels exhausted after days and weeks spent 
in its circles and transverse passages, and without having 
made connectedly the " tour of the world " thus opened 
to them in a single inclosure, and embodying art as well 
as the detail of ordinary living in distant lands ! Thous- 
ands, and yet only a small proportion of the great crowd ; 
for the declaration has been general, that " the outside is 
quite as interesting as the inside," and the alleys of the 
park have been filled with delightful crowds, not only 
during the time of exhibition, but during those long hours 
elapsing between the inexorable closing of the building at 
seven, and that of the grounds at eleven, which otherwise 
would have been all restaurant-life instead of compound. 

Art as well as the detail of ordinary living, it has been 
said, for no small share of the isolated buildings are 
gemmed with the best and finest productions of the coun- 
tries to which they are accredited. Not only in the long 
barrack-like buildings studding the outer walls are clus- 
tered many of the heavier manufactures of all the nations 
(including nearly all that have won us medals and applause 
in the United States Department, and the admirable agri- 
cultural and equine inventions of England, France, and 
Germany) ; but some of the very finest specimens of what 
our French cousins persist in calling the *' beaux arts " (why 
not " belles arts" as well as " belles lettres .^") are to be found 



131 PARIS IN '67. 

either stowed or scattered throusfti these detached build- 
ings and " annexes." 

The task is no light one, but the object is worthy of the 
labor. Let us stroll in thought, as only a part of us have 
done in reality, among the buildings forming the most 
notable features of these notable grounds. 

The first toast, in any land, should be to the ruler of 
that land : let the same compliment be paid in a prome- 
nade. Entering at the Grand Porte, let us turn to the 
left again, as in marking out the allotments; and if we 
only note a few of the most prominent objects, let them 
be such as to convey a faint idea of the whole. The Quart 
rran9ais (French one-quarter), of course. 

The Emperor's Pavilion stands at the immediate left of 
the walk, and near the Grand Porte — a gilded Persian 
mosque or temple, rich with rare shrubberies without, and 
yet rarer shrubberies showing within. Three flights of 
steps, one from the front, and one at either end, with 
silks, satins, and the art of tapestry-working — Lyons, Au- 
busson and the Gobelins — all exhausted in the small centre- 
room, that nearly always stands so invitingly open (though 
the groom at the steps and the silken cord across them 
might make entrance inconvenient), and the two still 
smaller half-curtained recesses which spring like wings 
from the centre of this very bijou of an oriental building. 
Kothing gaudy, nothing glaring, but everything rather 
low-toned than otherwise, and yet the sum of luxury 
offered in adulation to one of the most luxurious monarchs 
of any age. The upholsteries are inviting, the flowers are 
rare and odorous, and the taste is unimpeachable ; and yet 
pass on and pass on without envy — there have been those 
who grew iised to such luxuries, and missed them much 
■ more when they passed beyond their reach, than can we 
whose limbs have never pressed the coaches, nor our fin- 
gers toyed with the bijouterie ! 



THE PARK AND GROUNDS. 135 

A little on, to the left, and we are upon (figuratively, not 
literally) the tall chimney of one of the steam generators 
which supply power to the immense machines within the 
building, and of which some twenty surround it on differ- 
ent sides; then upon a handsome little Grecian temple, 
filled with the richest and the rarest of photo sculpture — 
an art some day destined to make Phidias a nohody ; then 
upon a tall tower, which seems a shot-tower, and is really 
a windmill, though, oddly enough, without wings or sails ; 
then upon a little ruined round-tower, on a raised rocky 
knoll, with the crumbling stones and the climbing ivy 
so natural as to deceive many of the unsophisticated; 
then upon a building of open frame-work, which seems to 
be as literally "hung with bells," inside, as ever was 
oriental bride or team in sleighing time, without, and 
from which, at the hours, such loud and melodious chimes 
go out and ring merrily over the Champ, that, for the 
moment, all other pursuits are suspended, and the whole 
body of visitors fall to chasing the fij^ng melody through 
the air ; then upon an immense chm-ch of the diminutive 
cathedral species, in which different denominations join in 
worship during the Exposition — no guaranty of anything 
beyond ; then upon a fifty-foot lake, with a tall light-house 
rock-throned in the centre, and a Fresnel light (at night) 
at top, big enough and bright enough to suggest that the 
dangers of Paris to human vessels have been foreseen, and 
this beacon erected to warn them off; then upon a cluster 
of beautiful nothings in the way of lap-roofed towers, which 
proves to be a chalet (Franco-Suisse) ; and a plain build- 
ing which turns out to be a military bakery, and makes 
people hungry by the warm-bready smell continually eman- 
ating from it ; then upon a building of three flights and a 
protruding front, which is discovered to be an Interna- 
tional Theatre, where performances (by no means inter- 
national) are given, afternoon and evening, and where 



136 PA EI 8 7iV '6 7. 

people guilty of going to theatres in summer may enter 
if they like. Down in the corner, near the Porte de I'Uni- 
versite (or Porte d'Orsay), stands a large Grecian building 
with Turkish dome and Chinese stair-cased front, which we 
suspect to be a new model chateau or state prison, but 
discover to be a photographer's shop. Here a model 
Parisian workman's house, rather American-looking ; there 
a model blanchisserie (wash-house), which looks like a 
Swiss cottage above, but straddles below like a wide- 
legged boy with rolled-up trousers ; and plenty of other 
objects, but none of especial interest remain, until we have 
passed the three grand entrances of the southeast (Rapp, 
De la Bourdonnaye, and St. Dominique), having thus 
made one quarter the circuit of the building. 

Beyond these portes we enter upon the Quart Beige; 
but within this lies the French Park proper, and a brief 
description of that reserve must be kept for a separate 
article. There is nothing (outside of that park) to attract 
special attention until reaching the Belgian Park proper, 
except an immense plain three-storied building on the 
Avenue Bourdonnaye, and immediately above the portes, 
known as the Pavilion of the Imperial Commission and 
Jury — already dear to the exhibitors who have succeeded, 
and execrated by the others ; because there the delibera- 
tions (more or less earnest) have been held which awarded 
or denied them their " rights." 

It is beyond the French Park and near the Grand Porte 
de I'Ecole Militaire, that the Belgian buildings have place, 
few, but notable, as the Belgian collections are the third, 
if not the second, in interest of the whole. The first in 
importance is a handsome plain Grecian building with 
false front, but commanding attention from being filled 
with a most extensive collection of pictures, embracing 
many of the gems of Flemish art, and second only to the 
grand array within the Exposition building. Yet another 



TEE PARK AND GROUNDS. I37 

structure, an exact diminutive copy of Castle Garden, with 
a Greenwich Street boarding-house added as a front, 
supplies room to the immense Flemish collection of car- 
riages — so many and so luxurious, that the lymphatic 
character of the people is recalled, and oue also remembers 
how they have been provided with animals to draw them, 
ever since the time of Henry VIIL, in the shape of "Flan- 
ders mares." 

This, with some minor buildings of the Flemings, brings 
us to the Grand Porte de I'Ecole Militaire, and completes 
the circuit (except the French Park) of the second quarter 
of the building and the Champ. 



XIII. 

PAEK AiTD GROUE'DS OF THE EXPOSITION. 



SECOND PAPEE. 



Returning, then, in our continued promenade of tLe 
park, to the grand entrance at the Pont de Jena, and turn- 
ing to the right as before to the left, we enter the Quart 
Anglais, where, as in the Beige and the Allemand (Ger- 
man), French buildings of art and convenience are to be 
found interspersed. Some of the more important of them 
are located here — an immense erection, something like a 
town-hall or state-house, at the very edge of the Champ, 
and fronting both there and riverward, being the Cercle 
International, a blending of club-house and restaurant, 
specially intended for visitors, to which very nearly the 
same remarks will apply, before used with reference to 
the Theatre. Near it, and with the same frontage, far- 
ther to the right, a handsome, but singular building, 
which seems to be an enlarged article of cabinet-furni- 
ture and bears the carved eagles and wooden urns of 
the prevalent manufactures in walnut, is the Salle des 
Conferences, or hall in which the officials may (again 
more or less) deliberate on the details of the Exposition. 
Beyond and around it, filling half the extreme corner 
towards the Portes de la Gare and Crenelle, heavy erec- 
tions in mechanics meet the eye, and Archimedes seems 
to have his share of the collection. A little beyond, 
yet near the corner, but toward the building, comes 



THE PARK AND GROUNDS. 139 

the one structure within the grounds, vieing with the 
Emperor's Pavilion in richness of oriental taste, and far 
excelling it in size — the palace of the Bey of Tunis, 
whose tum-tuming cafe, within, has been the hete noir 
of visitors. Light, airy, and exceedingly beautiful in 
architecture, is this markedly Saracen erection, its central 
mosque dome-spired, crescented and bannerolled, while 
two smaller domes of the same shape relieve the square- 
ness of the ornamented eaves, and tall, large windows 
seem to cut it into an upright lattice, and curved high 
stairs add to the lightness of appearance and the difficulty 
of entrance, if the Bey (I did not see him) should chance 
to be fat and waddle. " Tommy," who has been the 
guest of the Bey, alleges that " the palace is finished, 
inside, with Moorish filagree ceilings and gingerbread 
hangings, very much like that confounded Tunisian cafe 
where they bang and jingle the thingamy s in the big 
building ; and they lounge on piles of thick red cushions 
all round the walls, and smoke long pipes that make a 
fellow sick, and drink what they call sherbet, that tastes 
like honey, water, and rum, and talk about its being cooled 
with ' snow from the Mountains of the Moon,' though bet 
your boots that it is nothing but common ice from Nor- 
way or New England, and not the cleanest at that, either !" 
*' Tommy " adds that the Tunisians, and other Oriental 
nations whom he has visited in their s^^ecial privacies, 
are "bag-breeched, squatty, miserable sort o' old foo-foos, 
anyway, and he wouldn't give shooks for them !" 

But all this by the way. The Tunisian Palace is hand- 
some and picturesque, and gives character to that portion 
of the English Park, not a little disfigured, just above, by 
the long and shapeless "annexe" buildings, filled with 
the homely and practical, which commence at the Porte 
de Grenelle and skirt the Avenue Sufiren all the way up 
to the head of the Champ, except where broken by the 



14:0 " PARIS 11^ '67. 

three north-western portes. ISTot far from the Tunisian 
Palace, left of it, is a plain building with raised centre 
roof and Grecian entrance, of peculiar interest to the lovers 
of missionary enterprise ; for in it are the records and 
results, in books and printing, of all the Protestant missions 
which have wrought such marvelous changes, beneficial 
and the reverse, but always intended for the best, in far 
Asia and Africa, and the " Islands of the Sea." Still 
nearer to the grand entrance stand two buildings of 
importance — the one long, plain and cumbersome, the 
other of two heights and some pretension — the first an 
interesting model French military hospital (of which 
Americans know quite enough, just now, practically, 
without instruction), and the second (with two lesser 
buildings at no great distance) containing the unex- 
plainable details for warming and gas-lighting the great 
building. 

Then another striking orientalism, between the last- 
named group and the Tunisian Palace — the summer palace 
(just as if he intended to remain during thQ winter !) of 
the Viceroy (since King) of Egypt. Lower than the 
Tunisian Palace, and more broken-up in the character of 
its architecture, but airy, wide-doored and many- wind owed, 
and crowned with the inevitable mosque-dome, without 
which an Eastern mansion could no more be complete than 
an European one without a chimney. Next, an Egyptian 
temple, that of Edfou in miniature, massive, ponderous, 
and Tombs-like, containing the smallest and least-interesting 
collection of Egytian antiquities, that had far better been 
kept at home. Near it a Turkish mosque, major and minor 
domed, draped and carpeted, but cheerless and empty of 
conveniences, with a pulpit at the side, from which the 
moollah may be supposed to discourse, with the requisite- 
number of "Allah's," " Bismillali's," allusions to the "Pro- 
phet" and the "Hourii," and anathemas against the 



THE FARE AND GROUNDS. 141 

" dogs of infidels, whose graves may beasts defile !" — to 
the " followers of the Faithful." 

At which point comes in a reminder that, what with the 
Sultan, his brother and son, the Viceroy of Egypt, and 
the Bey of Tunis, orientalism has been the feature of the 
season, and the Koran a thing rather honored than the re- 
verse, all the way from Paris to London — so that one 
might have doubted whether under its shadow Christians 
had ever been persecuted, and especially whether there ever 
could have been such an event as cruelty in Crete, need- 
ing the remonstrance of the Christian world ! So that 
there might have been difficulty in recalling, with any feel- 
ing of their applicability to the present crisis, the words 
of Halleck, away back in the days of Byron and Marco 
Bozzaris, when the Crimean complications were as yet 
more than thirty years in the future : — 

• " To day the turbaned Turk — 

Sleep, Eichard of the Lion Heart ! 

Sleep on, nor from your cerements start I — 

Is England's firm and fast ally ; 
The Moslem tramples on the Greek, 

And Christendom looks calmly on, 
And hears the Christian maiden shriek, 

And sees the Christian father die. 
And not a sabre-blow is given 
For G-reece and fame, for God and heaven. 

By Europe's craven chivalry !"" 

Judging from some of the addresses in French and Eng- 
lish reception-ceremonials of these oriental potentates, 
nothing could be finer than the religion and practice of the 
august gentlemen, and any eflPbrt to change their opinions 
and customs would be worse than wasted ! Anna Maria 
(of whom also by-and-by), interrogated upon this point, 
suggested that the English and French admiration show- 
ered upon the Turks was real ; that their institutions of 
more than one wife, now so extensively though privately 
copied in London and Paris (certainly not in New York !), 



142 PARIS Iir '67. 

rendered tbera special objects of interest to tlieir proselytes 
— i. e., every third male monster ! However much this may 
be of libel, one thing is certain — compensations are univer- 
sal and inevitable. If the Sultan was extoUed^^s the first 
of lawgivers and rulers, before he left Western Europe he 
" had his gruel." Once upon a time a certain Turkish 
Pasha, transacting government business with the United 
States authorities, was entertained at the New York City 
Hall on ham-sandwiches and wine, the two forbidden un- 
cleannesses of the Koran ; but what was that to the "flea in 
his ear " with which the Sultan left England — a Bible flung 
at Mm — just as Luther used to hurl the same weapon at 
the devil in his paroxysms — by the British and Foreign 
Bible Society ! 

Near the Turkish mosque and at the edge of the main 
building, a Turkish school-house raises its clumsy square 
sides and clumsier round dome ; what it may be within, 
the horror of personal school-days forfend our making any 
inquiry! And here a tall Chinese pagoda lifts its height, 
broken by the graceful curved horns of the order ; and 
there a theatre, of the same architecture, gives perform- 
ances every hour [d la Barnum), and periodically sends out 
on the air bursts of wild barbaric music in which the 
shrill scream of the reeds is grandly broken in upon by the 
solemn undertone of the great gong ; and near beside, in 
a veritable Chinese dwelling, one may see (for half a franc 
additional) tea, urn-boiled by one Chinaman, and drank 
without milk and scalding hot by another, and the pig- 
sties where these people sleep behind matting curtains, 
and the desolate-looking, furnitureless apartments where fat 
beauties of girls, with little feet, almond eyes, Mephistophe- 
lean eyebrows, inch-thick-enameled baby faces, and gowns 
tight at the bottom and sticking out with stiff wangs at 
the waist, squat on the floor, gabble, ogle, and do nothing 
with lazy vigor. Then the same research may be made 



TEE PARK AND GROUNDS. I43 

into a Japanese mansion, where all the cobwebby lumber 
of an old garret seems to have been gathered ; where parch- 
ment skin and paucity of head-hair seem to be the char- 
acteristics of the occupants; and where one old codger 
eternally occupies himself with a Japano-French book and 
a pencil, pricking out a word when he happens to under- 
stand it — a little wearily to the looker-on, who finds noth- 
ing of interest in ^ the whole race, already overdone on 
both continents. 

It is at near this point that three very plain buildings 
meet the American eye and suggest uncovered heads and 
low speech, though no doubt they excite widely-different 
feelings in those who fail to understand their relation to a 
great race. A simple American farmer's dwelling, of 
wood, and with no elaboration of ornament ; but one in 
the likes of which the men and women of America are 
country-bom and country-reared, and a far more indispen- 
sable part of the land and its power than can well be real- 
ized even by the American who is altogether and exclu- 
sively " citizen." The second is a Boston cracker-bakery, 
whence arise appetizing smells that more than compensate 
for the ungracefulness of the architecture. And yet the 
third is more suggestive and entitled to precedence ; for it 
is an American school-house, with the master's desk, the 
benches, and the black-board, among and around the coun- 
terparts of which the foundations of American practical 
knowledge, and consequently American /reec/om, have been 
laid ; and one almost seems to hear the hum of young 
voices on the summer air, looking in at tne door — and al- 
most to expect, turning away, to be overrun by the rush 
of released youngsters, crammed with enough of juvenile 
education for one day, and grasping books and lunch -bas- 
kets to hurry home to kisses, scoldings, and their play. 

This is all " bosh " and " shibboleth " to the dwellers in 
other lands, of course. Pass on into the things of the old 



144 PARIS /iV^ '67. 

world, once more. For very near, in another unpretentious 
building, is the Pompeian gallery, where the faded relics of 
two thousand years ago are gathered, and where, in the 
crumbling mosaics, the fragments of corroding jewelry and 
decaying furniture, one may visit the neighborhood of 
Vesuvius without crossing the Alps, and learn something 
of the modes of living of those days when the Saviour's 
foot had as yet scarcely quitted the earth — when Sallust 
wrote and Diomedes scattered wealth. And, passing, the 
thought comes inevitably up : Could any juxtaposition be 
more strikingly suggestive than this of the Old and the 
New — of Italy and Western America — of the plain where 
almost literally fell that " fire from heaven," and the wide 
prairies where falls heaven's dew to create bread for half 
a world ? 

And as if to afford even more diversity here, after this 
reminder of the effeminate South, followed b}" a Mexican 
temple of the days when a better race ruled Mexico (the 
natives) than it supplies at present — a building odd, lum- 
bering, but not uncomely, — and by a Portuguese pavilion 
of really exquisite Moorish beauty, with its finely swelled 
domes and elaborate ornamentation, — ^here come the hang- 
ing-roofed buildings of Sweden and Norway, queer, pic- 
turesque, and full of a half-barbarous beauty — one of the 
Swedish, a marvel in the work bestowed on its inclosure 
and the curve of its outside stair-way, and said to be an 
exact model of one once built and occupied by Gustavus 
Vasa; and beyond them the Swiss chalets rise, as I saw 
them yesterday up the valleys of Lauterbrunnen and Grin- 
del wald, their roofs nearly twice the size of the houses 
themselves, their outside galleries a feature of winter-con- 
venience, and on some of them the laboriously round- 
pointed little shingles seeming to remind one of scale- 
armor. And yet beyond, a Russian country-house presents 
its perfect apotheosis of chiseled wood and front gables, 



TEE PARK AND GROUNDS. 145 

and contains within it a collection of the household uten- 
sils and furniture of that northern people, and a shop 
where their manufactures may be seen and their nick- 
nackeries bought. And there a Swiss " annexe " shows 
that the mountains give birth to skillful mechanics in the 
heavy and practical ; and near it a skin-and-bark pole-sup- 
ported conical tent displays the wild living of the Tartar 
Kirghis; and here flashes one of the Spanish houses, light, 
airy, and tasteful, that must have been borrowed from the 
Moors, and might stand under the orange-groves of Gre- 
nada ; and yet beyond comes a Prussian school-house, little 
different from the ordinary English and American, though 
smaller and more temple-like ; and there is one of the 
mountain cabins, little more than a hut, of the Tyrolese, 
who drove out the First ISTapoleon from their mountain 
fastnesses, and come down, now-a-days, cross-boddiced and 
sharp-hatted, from their gathering-capital at Innspruck, 
to sing echo-songs for us on dull evenings, all over Europe 
and America; and another Swiss " annexe " gives promi- 
nence to Alpine pictures made in the land that inspired 
tbem ; and in the extreme corner, at the Porte Dupleix, a 
double-towered small Alhambra of the Spaniards gives 
place to some of the finer specimens of the art that once 
employed Murillo; and a Hungarian mansion, strong, 
convenient, and substantial, recalls the late crowing of 
Francis Joseph at Pesth, and makes us wonder whether 
there are to be any more Kossuths ; and yet beyond, a 
whole handsome building is devoted to the agricultural 
products of the Department of the North (France) — one 
of the completest and most creditable ever gathered in 
corresponding space ; and a long building, near the en- 
trance, and at the edge of the Avenue de la Mothe Piquet, 
called the " Grand Restaurant for Workmen Delegates " 
(" Grand restaurant pour les ouvriers del^gues — commis- 
sion d' encouragement "), indicates that the humbler classes 
1 



146 PARIS IIsT '67. 

have really been sometimes thought of while ministering 
especially to the tastes of the rich and the royal ; and then 
we come upon a group of army-tents, French, tasteful, and 
convenient, with the marquee of the chef cT escadron tow- 
ering nobly in the centre, and the array guarded as if in 
\ actual warfare (so fond this people are of " playing at sol- 
diers " everywhere !) ; and this, with only a tithe of the 
featirres noticed, and the general aspects only indicated in 
the faintest manner by types that specially strike the eye 
— this brings us once more to the Grand Porte de I'Ecole 
Militaire, and completes the circuit of the great park, the 
Pare Frangais again excepted, and retained as a bonne 
houehe after a banquet that has been (or should have been) 
all appetizing. 

Indicated in the faintest manner — perhaps not indicated 
at all — for what is all this infinite variety, even, without the 
Chinese that eat fire and swallow swords in their theatre ; 
the mock hareem of Circassian girls that peep from the 
Turkish pavilion ; the French miniature bal d' opera, 
where the girls (mildly) throw their feet in one^s face, in 
the diluted cancan ; the clinking castanets and trampling 
feet of the Spanish girls dancing in their Moresco habita- 
tion ; the railways that carry little cars loaded with ice 
cream, in the Italian quarter ; the little bells that tinkle 
and rills that ripple, and walks that lead astray to sweet 
surprises ; the trees that wave ; the flowers that bloom ; 
the shrubberies that encircle ; the flags and bannerols that 
flaunt; the fountains that spout and spirt bright water; 
the statues that stud qyqyj avenue and tower in colossal 
size at every entrance and approach ; the moving crowd 
that everywhere and at every hour lend it additional vari- 
ety by the diversity of costume the continuity of motion, 
the speech of lip and expression of face ; the great bells that 
ring ; the children that laugh ; the lovely women that smile ; 
the idiots that strut and simper ; the force of well-regulated 



TEE PARK A If J) OR GUILDS, UT 

and unobtrusive authority that shows itself at every turn 
in the quiet men with the cocked hats and swords, and 
the silver ships on the long tails of their coats ; the music 
that ever and anon breaks forth from outbuilding or encir- 
cling restaurant ; the new-comers that flock in ; the wearied 
who saunter slowly away; the thousand-and-one sights 
and sounds and influences, which pencil cannot catch or 
word convey, and which after all supply the life when hu- 
man art and arrangement can only bring forth the inani- 
mate body ? What is all without these ? Nothing. The 
intelligent and observant stroller through the wonderful 
grounds of the Exposition, during the summer of 1867, 
will have felt, seen and understood the indescribable en- 
chantment : the absentee, even if instructed by more 
faithful and facile pens than that of the Governor, will 
never come nearer than a fancy, an echo, a shadow ! 



XIV. 

BEAUTIES OF THE PAPwO EEAlsTgAIS. 

Often, in speaking of the Bois de Boulogne, the expres- 
sion has been used of the Pre Cat el an hidden away in its 
midst, that it is an inner glory within a glory — a holy of 
holies in the priesthood of beauty, to be approached last, 
if at all, because after it the less-perfect would seem flat 
and insignificant. Something like this may be- said of the 
French Park proper, which is by no means hidden away 
even from outsiders who have never entered the Exposition 
grounds (it being in plain view from diiferent portions of 
the Avenue de la Bourdonnaye on the east, and the Avenue 
de la Mothe Piquet on the south); but an additional franc 
is necessary to enter within and fully enjoy it, whether 
paid on first entrance by the Porte de Tourville, which 
opens upon it at the southeast corner, or in the attempt 
to pass into it from other portions of the grounds. It forms 
the crown and perfection of the Champ de Mars, even as 
the Pre Catelan crowns and completes the Bois de Bou- 
logne. It supplies a ground of agreement even for those 
who deny and those who indorse the excellence of the 
other details of the Exposition. 

Here it is that the science of delicate landscape garden' 
ing (i.e., landscape gardening in a close way and for near 
view), for which the French are deservedly applauded by 
all the rest of the world, comes into play and supplies a 
rival to the wonders of Versailles. Here it is that the 
great conservatories stand, evidently unlimited cost and 



THE PARC FRANQAIS. U9 

labor bestowed upon their heating, arrangement and ven- 
tilation, and half hidden behind the glasses of each, such 
rows and groups and masses of the loveliest plants and 
flowers to which temperate zone or tropics give birth, that 
the botanist may well go half insane over the display, and 
the unlearned observer thank heaven that he has been 
gifted with the power of seeing and enjoying, without the 
labor of classification — just as an old codger once thanked 
a pompous duke for wearing diamonds for him, so that he 
could see and enjoy them without the cost of buying or 
the risk of keeping. 

Here it is, too, that the verdure, well kept throughout 
the whole Champ de Mars, is made a perfection of neat 
finish — the little spots of plain lawn, close emerald velvet ; 
the walks edged with iron-bowed borderings skillfully made 
into the semblance of wooden withes ; the shrubbery judi- 
ciously placed as well kept, and often of the rarest and 
costliest exotic materials ; and that peculiar French and 
German science of embroidering in the colors of flowers, 
carried to the extreme of care and taste in borderings, 
beds, and intersections, which really seem to have been 
sown with the fragments of a thousand shivered rainbows. 
I have said it before, and I repeat it — Versailles, Kew, 
and the grounds of the Sydenham Crj^stal Palace are all 
rivaled here. The Captain (of whom, too, something more 
definite by-and-by) — the Captain, who has a practiced eye 
in all that belongs to the fruits and flowers of the earth, 
places the Pare Fran9ais before all in this regard, and 
literally surrenders at discretion to a series of bewildering 
flower-hemmed rambles that are too much for his available 
vacuum of enjoyment. 

Perhaps the Captain grows even more enthusiastic (and 
eke the Governor), when a golden but by no means hot 
afternoon throws its Italian atmosphere over the Exposi- 
tion palace, over the Seine and its opposite heights and 



150 PARIS IN '67. 

buildings, and, better than all, over the French Park, to 
which we retire for absolute rest when the more practical 
features of the exhibition have wearied us. 

Yonder is a little lake, or fresh-water aquarium {eau douce 
— soft water, the Frenchmen call it), where we stand at the 
brink and watch the tiny ripples made by the tinier deni- 
zens within, and find the sense of the beautiful filled by 
the green-and-silver supplied in border and water, and 
muse over great oceans which some of us have crossed, 
where mighty whales were as nothing, in comparison, be- 
side these atoms of fish-life to their " inland sea." And 
then we peep into conservatory after conservatory, and 
stroll by beds of soft flower-embroidery, and come at last 
to a spot where hundreds are gathered, and where five 
sous each, placed in the hand of the buxom, short-petti- 
coated and bare-headed female commissionaire des chaises^ 
with the tell-tale wheel at her girdle, supplies a chair to 
each for the needed rest, and enables us to lounge indo- 
lently back and listen to the music. 

The music — ay, that is the attraction, after all. For 
near us there is an elegant colored and gilded open pavilion, 
or music-stand, like that which New Yorkers so well know 
in the Central Park, but larger and less graceful; and 
around it and down the winding walks in the immediate 
neighborhood the chair-occupiers are grouped ; and in the 
pavilion a band in green — one of the pet bands of the 
Erapdror's "household troops" — are discoursing such soft 
music, from Sebastian Bach and Abt and Mendelssohn, as 
thrills the ear with quiet satisfaction and makes the drowsy 
lounger think of sleeping a little while in his chair, " lapped 
in " scenic as well as musical " elysium." 

Another and then another, with applause and bravos at 
the close of nearly every piece ; and then there comes a 
change in the programme. There is a stir and bustle 
among the loungers, the measured tramp of feet is heard 



THE PARC FRANgAIS, 151 

in the pause of the music ; and two by two, filing up from 
the palace, comes another of the Emperor's bands, larger 
than the other, in blue, shakoed, sworded and fierce, and 
loaded with such bulky instruments in brass that they 
seem in anything else than " light marching order." They 
approach the steps of the pavilion ; the band within 
salutes ; that without answers ; and tlien the first file down 
the steps at the left, and the latter enter and take their 
places. Green has given place to blue, and the repertoire 
changes with the personnel. 

Was there a thought of sleep before ? And did the 
softer and gentler emotions of humanity find momentary 
encouragement — love, and moonlight rambles, and grief 
over the graves of dear friends ? Something very difier- 
ent, now : the sentimental in French character has been 
indulged quite long enough ; let the vigorous and warlike 
take its place. Grand marches thunder from the ponder- 
ous brazen throats, and fierce onslaughts seem to rise in 
the magic of sound, till Rouget de Lisle comes back with 
tlie " Marseillaise," and John of Leyden with the triumphal 
progress of the " Prophet," and the days of the Little 
Corporal seem to live again, and the most lamb-like of us 
seem to be " conquerors striding over ruined walls " and 
dictating the destinies of nations. 

When and whereupon, in a longer pause than usual of 
the music, the Governor tells the Captain one of his brief 
but inevitable stories, having for its foundation that very 
turning lambs into lions consequent upon warlike music. 
The Captain laughs appreciatively ; and thereupon the Gov- 
ernor is encouraged to detail it to a more extensive audi- 
tory, without the just-ended martial melody to give it 
point. 

There may have been more arrant cowards in his gener- 
ation than a certain Middle State American of a late age, 
who rejoiced in a name something like that of John Best; 



152 PARIS IN '67. 

but they had not been made manifest to the outer world. 
At forty he had never been known to remain outside of his 
own garden alone after dusk ; sharp thunder shook him 
with fmcies of the Day of Doom, and the apparition of a 
small dog from behind a road-side bush in broad daylight, 
would set his knees knocking together like a pair of casta- 
nets. He was said to have denied " popping the question " 
to the woman of his heart, and left her to fall into the 
hands of his rival, after forming an engagement of mar- 
riage, on that rival pulling his nose as a preliminary, and 
threatening to use a subsequent cowhide if he did not at 
once retire from the field. Well, one evening Best, then 
in the flower of his inglorious manhood, chanced to find 
himself for an hour in the company of a dozen rural sere- 
naders, armed with violins, clarionets, drums and cym- 
bals, preparing for an excursion. They were '* practising " 
and heaven help the music they made, except in the way 
of noise ! They played various then-popular airs, and 
Best (who seldom heard music beyond that of a jewsharp) 
listened with interest. They broadened their repertoire, 
bringing in " Yankee Doodle," " Hail Columbia," and other 
national melodies, and Best's eyes began to flash and his 
cheek to redden as no man had ever before seen them. 
They played " Washington's March, " and he commenced 
promenading, with something approaching a martial step, 
and an occasional snort which might have been mistaken 
for that of an awakening war-horse. They changed to that 
now unfashionable yet fine old air, once popularly called 
" Bony Over the Alps," the grand rolling sweep of which 
always seemed to suggest the days of Arcole and Marengo ; 
and the loud thud of the heel of the promenader almost 
vied with the thunder of the drums. Eyes flashing, chest 
heaving, breath drawn sonorously, who could have believed 
that metamorphosed man to be the John Best of any pre- 
vious day ? One of the party went up to him. " What 



THE PARC FRANgAIS. 153 

ails yoTi, Best ?" " What ails me .^ N'othing !" *' What are 
you raviug in that way for, then ?" " Raving ! I'm not 
raving — I'm marching ! Any man that is a man, could 
march through h — 11 to that tune !" " You ? — why you 
couldn't march through a sheep-pasture, if there was a cat 
in the path !" At which moment, mircibile dictu^ John 
Best's right fist hit the doubter between the eyes, and he 
measured his length on the floor, Best showing no incon- 
siderable prowess, moreover, in the " free-fight " which fol- 
lowed — a fight rendered somewhat mixed and prolonged 
by the fact that all parties doubted their own eyes. The 
music died out, and Best, once more a coward, " begged 
off," called for liquor, abjectly apologized, and slunk away ; 
but there was a wonderino- tradition in the neio-hborhood 
for many years after of the power of music, and especially 
of " Bony Over the Alps," that on a certain occasion, 
within the personal knowledge of some of the relators, had 
" actually induced John Best, the biggest coward between 
Casco Bay and Currituck, to strike a ma^i!^^ 

But the Governor's story has happily an end, and it ends 
as the musical hour expires and the gubernatorial and 
naval heroes leave their chairs and move onward down the 
slope toward the Serre Monumental, on the opposite rise 
or knoll — pausing midway, however, to catch the crown- 
ing triumph with which the band carries all French hearts 
captive, and recalls another of the First Napoleonic eras 
than that just alluded to — that sweet, sad, characteristic 
air with which poor Josephine made sacred the campaign 
in Egypt — " Partant Pour le Syriey 

It is a beautiful water-bijou — a lake in miniature — that 
lies below the music pavilion and is passed by a neat 
little rustic bridge on the way to the Serre Monumental, 
standing on the opposite rise with full front to the Porte 
de Tourville (southeast corner of the Park), and of the 
name of which all explanation must be waived, excepting 



154 PABIS IIT '67. 

that "serre" is French for "green-house" or *' conserva- 
tory," and that there seems to be no " monument" what- 
ever, except of taste, attached to the buikling. It forms 
one of the rarest glories of the whole, presenting a square, 
open-sided, roofed pavilion, first on entering, with Venetian 
draperies of striped cloth depending, and the resources of 
a world apparently exhausted in the floral glories which 
surround it on every hand. This square is only the 
vestibule to the larger division of the building, rounded 
at the opposite end, and with the glass roof shaded by a 
full covering of the same striped Yenetian material, fami- 
liar to us all in window awnings. The architect of the 
Serre has evidently seen that finest feature in the English 
Royal Gardens at Kew, the Palm-IIouse ; for the general 
character of the building is not only the same, but the 
same sharp-arched orientalism is shown in the shape 
of the roof. Within, too, is a diminutive Kew — for not 
only Paris, but Brussels and other European capitals have 
been ransacked for rare tropical plants of peculiar size and 
magnificence, to give it tone and completeness ; and deli- 
cate feathery palms thrust up their graceful branches, as 
if feeling for the balmy southern air ; and giant cacti sug- 
gest the succulent South American lands; and century- 
plants give their promise of bloom of a hundred years ; and 
the orange-tree of Spain and the spice and gum trees of 
the far East stand lovingly together ; and the naturalist 
probably has a "good time" in understanding what he 
sees, as the non-scientific observer ("present company not 
excepted") finds one in his happy ignorance. 

There is a single statue in the Palm-House of the Serre 
Monumental, of more than average merit and interest — a 
life-size full-length of the Empress Eugenie on the day of 
her marriage, and in the robes of that occasion, in which 
the sculptor seems to have caught face and form with as 
happy effect as Winterhalter in painting. The popular 



TEE PARC FEANQAIS. 155 

Empress will always live as she was (alas! as she is not 
now), while this excellent statue remains; and on the 
square pedestal a bas-relief of the marriage ceremony com- 
memorates that occasion with far less than the average 
inelegance of that brauch of sculpture. 

One other special feature in the French Park, and then 
we must pass away from it imaginarily, as it is not too easy 
to do in reality. 

An hundred or two of yards from the Serre, and on 
either side, stand the Aquarium d'Eau Douce (before 
spoken of) and the Aquarium Maritime; and in the won- 
derful expanse of the latter, with water-filled glass rus- 
tically set, above and below, all the monsters and all the 
minnows of the sea — always excepting whales and sea- 
serpents — seem to be swimming; while in the caverns 
below, which might skirt some wild northern coast, the 
science of laborious illusion seems to have been carried 
even farther than in that ruined tower with its ivy skirting 
the grand entrance. Beneath rough crags, that seem to 
have been corroded and hollowed by the tide-wash of 
centuries, the Captain (old salt in his element then) and 
his land-lubber companion stumble dov/n into a successiou 
of subterranean caverns, in the very midst of which the 
aquarium dimly shows its scaly denizens, and where the 
rough sides, encrusted with artificial spar, and hardened 
by the real drip of water artistically supplied, the whole 
just enough torch-lighted to make the sense of reality 
perfect, give evidence of the fact that when the Emperor 
and his satellites resolve to carry out a project, however 
insignificant or unnecessary, they do it as Sambo "got 
up" his "har" for the visit to Susannah — " 'gardless of 
'spense." 

But this fact, and the correlative one of the advantages 
for lavish display which despotic government supplies to 
a ruler, over a system ordinarily called "constitutional" — 



156 PARIS IK '67. 

these may well have been suspected at an earlier day, before 
the inspection of the bewildering beauties of the Pare 
Frangais — even before the inauguration of the great Expo- 
sition, to which it forms a pendant as costly and appro- 
priate as the diamond drop in the pearliest ear in the 
world. 

The royal visitors to Paris having been sufficiently indi- 
cated, with the features of scenery amid which they moved, 
and the crowd, who waited on their motions — it now 
becomes necessary to interpolate a few somewhat import- 
ant descriptions of leading imperial festivities, before pro- 
ceeding to notice briefly the contents of the Building and 
the Park, of more or less special interest to American 
readers. 



XV. 



THE IMPERIAL BALLS— BALL OF THE SOYEREIGNS 
AT THE HOTEL DE YILLE. 

The presence of a " numerous and reliable corps of cor- 
respondents " at the great events not under gubernatorial 
notice, has already been announced, in introducing the 
expansive " Tommy," the historian of the Opening. Lucky 
is it for both editor and reader, probably, that Master 
Thomas was not depended upon to supply accounts of the 
great balls given at the Tuileries and the Hotel de Ville ; 
as that young and ardent person, with his strong language 
and ad captandum utterances, might have made nearly as 
fatal work of the royal personages and their appointments 
as the proverbial " bull " is said to accomplish " in a china- 
shop," or as one of our far-western. Apaches would be 
likely to perpetrate, if left unrestrained among the costly 
fittings and bijouterie of a fashionable up-town residence. 

Fortunately the grand balls of the Exposition have fallen 
into more fitting hands — abler (in their way) as well as 
much fairer ones ; hands that (if a bad pun may be per- 
mitted on a g]*ave subject) handle them as deftly as the 
Eastern juggler deals with those very difierent globules of 
the same name. The account of the great state balls, in 
short, is supplied by "The Counselor's Lady," an old 
(young) habitue of Parisian society, as well as of "society " 
in her own land, resident in the capital during all the lead- 
ing events of the season, and possessing the entree wher- 
ever entrance was desirable, from the Emperor's box at the 
opera to the reserved seats at the royal receptions. It is 



158 PARIS IN '67. 

with the balls, however, that she pi'incipally deals in her 
somewhat extended communication ; and to her own recital 
they may be safely left, without other introduction. 

" I have promised," writes the " Counselor's Lady," " to 
supply you with a brief account of the most notable of the 
Parisian balls of the season, at which I have been present. 
I confess that I tremble a little at the thought of assuming 
such a responsibility ; but one reflection reassures me — not 
many of my countrywomen were present at them, and 
those who were may have been as dazzled as myself, and 
not much more capable of close observation. To my task, 
then, with what courage I may. Some of my Pennsyl- 
vanian ancestors are said not to have been seriously afraid 
of bullets — why should their descendants be of balls ? 

" Royal and imperial balls, as you are well aware, have 
been so prevalent in Paris since my advent here in March, 
that to those who have the entree^ not to have been present 
has become more of a distinction than presence itself. But 
there have been some of those events, as you are also well 
aware, so raised above all the others by the unlimited cost 
bestowed upon them, the halo of highest fashion that sur- 
rounded them, and the presence at them of half the 
crowned heads of Europe, that beside them all the minor 
occasions, however brilliant, sink into comparative insig- 
nificance. 

" There have been two of even the most notable, 
embodying so many of the most extraordinary features of 
all the others, that when I have supplied you with the best 
glimpse in my power of them^ writing of the others would 
be but the weariest repetition. I refer to what will no 
doubt be historically called the ' Ball of the Sovereigns,' 
given by the City of Paris, under the auspices of Baron 
Haussmann, the Prefect of the Seine, to the Emperor and 
his guest the Czar of Russia, King of Prussia, and other 
royal and noble visitors, at the Hotel de Yille, on Satur- 



TEE IMPERIAL BALLS. 159 

day evening, the 8th of June ; and the Grand Ball at the 
Palace of the Tuileries, given by the Emperor himself to 
the same royal guests and a more select body of other visi- 
tors, on the Monday night following, the 10th of June — 
which will probably be known as the ' Czar's Ball,' in con- 
tradistinction to the other. 

" Of the first of these, again, I shall supply you little 
more than a glimpse, avoiding detail and any attempt at 
personal description, and occupying something more than 
half my space with a relation of very singular character, 
which will ever make that ball most memorable to me. In 
the later event I shall attempt to give you personal glimpses 
of some of the notables, and to convey at least a feeble 
impression of the movements incidental to what was, no 
doubt, the most brilliant assemblage of the century. To 
the event of the 8th at the Hotel de Ville, then, without 
further preface or promise, except the insertion of a copy 
of the municipal invitations of the season, and the instruc- 
tions as to dress for gentlemen, accompanying— not issued 
for this special occasion, it is true, but supplying some 
idea of the strict though unpretending form used in such 
instances : — 



No. 1. 



LE SENATEUE, PREFET DE LA SEINE, 

au nom du Corps Municipal de Paris, 
a rhonneur d'inviier 



Madame 




d la Ftte qui aura lieu 
d P Hotel de Ville 

le Samedi 6 Juillet 1861, dd henres. 
Ce Billet, rigoureusement personnel, aura etre remis aux 
huissiers charge d'annoncer. 



160 PARIS Iir '6 7. 

No. 2. 



Leurs Majestes VEmpereur et V Imperatrice d les Souverains eirangers 
alors a Paris dcvant honorer la Fete de la Ville de leur presence, le Corps 
Municipal sera en grand uniforme avec la culotte blanche. 

Les Invites sont pries de vouloir Men etre egalcment en uniforme^ ou, a 
defaut de costume official, en frac avec la culotte courte ou le pantalon col- 
lant. 



*' Neither you nor most of your readers need be told 
that the ' City Hall' of Paris is almost or quite the equal 
of the Tuileries and the Louvre in its architecture, and 
that it has a history quite as extensive and interesting as 
either ; but some need to be told that there are apart- 
ments in the Hotel de Yille more richly decorated and 
showing the evidence of a costlier taste from floor to ceil- 
ing, than any of the other palaces of France ! Yet so it 
is. Here, as sometimes it used to be in London, the ' City ' 
occasionally asserts itself, and shows that when it will it 
can come near to overtopping the ' State' — the civic above 
the national — money above the political sinews which it 
strengthens if it does not create them. 

" There was even more rarity in the ball at the Hotel de 
Yille than in the grandest at the Tuileries. For the Im- 
perial palace is often ablaze, and in the ' season ' so many 
fetes are given, that gaieties there seem to be things of 
course. But it is different at the civic palace. It has 
not before been entirely opened for any festivity, since 
Queen Yictoria and Prince Albert were entertained there, 
ten or fifteen years ago — I do not remember how many ; 
and I suppose that nothing less than a congress of sover- 
eigns, like that which has lately seemed in perpetual ses- 
sion in Paris, could again have brcmght the pet palace of 
the city into entire requisition. For, apart from the cosjly 
splendor, it is no trifle of space that is surrendered to fes- 
tivity when the Hotel de Yille is given up to it — they say 



TEE IMPERIAL BALLS. 161 

the salons, placed in a line, would extend something like 
fifteen hundred yards or little less than a mile ! They tell 
me, too, in spite of my woman's horror of any other ' fig- 
ures ' than those of beauty or a cotillion — that the Grand 
Hall is nearly two hundred feet in length by half that dis- 
tance in width, and that very few less than one hundred 
thousand wax-lights are necessary to bring out all the 
rooms of the immense building in their full glory ! You 
can imagine that they must be 'occasions,' indeed, on which 
this space is occupied, and all this outlay in chandlery jus- 
tified ! But justified they were, then, if ever ; for did not 
the number of regular invitations reach beyond six thou- 
sand ? — and are there not plenty who believe that the num- 
ber present, besides a perfect assembly of notabilities form- 
ing part of it, must have reached nearer to ten thousand 
than six? "We have seen two or three thousand persons, 
on rare occasions, at our old ISTew York Academy of Mu- 
sic ; but multiply that number by three, or possibly five, 
and the splendor of each particular group by fifty or one 
hundred, and some faint idea may be formed of the guests 
of Baron Haussmann on that Saturday evening ! 

" You are aware what magnificent open spaces surround 
the Hotel de Yille, with the Rue Rivoli on one side of it, and 
the Seine with its bridges and quays on the other — with the 
great Caserne ISTapoleon behind it, but at a considerable 
interval, and the shops and houses in front standing at a 
corresponding shy distance. Well, can you imagine what 
a crowd it was that filled that wide open space ? — the Czar 
only just arrived in Paris, everybody on tiptoe to see him, 
and the additional incitement of standing in the glare of 
that line of gas-lights stretching across the palace front, 
and seeing hundred u]3on hundred of the showiest peo- 
ple in Europe, and many of the handsomest women, going 
by in the handsomest of equipages, and to the most magnifi- 
cent of balls? An orderly crowd, I must admit — though I 



162 PARIS IN '67. 

do not believe in tbe good order or harmlessness of Parisian 
populace, as I may have after-occasion to tell you ; but still a 
crowd of the densest and most eager description, making 
the passage of that wilderness of vehicles almost im- 
possible. 

" Were you ever a fire-fiy ? — a will-o'-the-wisp ? — a fire- 
balloon ? or a comet ? I suppose not, and yet I saw some- 
thing of one or the other, or of all of them, that night, 
with humanity supplying the material ! Think of one fea- 
ture of the arrival of the Imperial party through that 
crowd, in so many carriages that I do not like to hazard a 
guess at the number — perhaps twenty, perhaps thirty, or 
forty; all guarded down the side by squadrons of the 
splendidly-uniformed and dashing lancers of the guard ; 
and every carriage, with its gorgeously appointed occu- 
pants, lit up inside, as if it had been a ball-room on its own 
account! Think what a line of magnificent will-o'the- 
wisps that must have made ; and how that light must have 
flashed and glittered to the eyes of the crowd, on face and 
figure that they wished to recognize — on dress and jewel 
and decoration ! It was a case of distinguished people 
'making a show of themselves,' to please the public eye — • 
a case odd enough to deserve mention, and I think a little 
commendation. I could only see that part of the pageant 
for a few moments, glancing back from my carriage as t 
made an arrival almost late enough to have been ' royal ' 
in my own right ; but I am not likely soon to forget the 
general effect, even in that which followed. 

" Light is to be the glory of the other spectacle, to be 
spoken of by-and-by. Music and floioers were the fea- 
tures of this, as if something ugly in the past needed to 
be covered up and danced merrily over. Ugh ! — I wonder 
if there was not? Ma foil 2,^ my French hosts say, I 
thought so before I left the building ; but I must tell you 
that in its proper place. Music and flowers — flowers and 



TEE IMPERIAL BALLS. 163 

music — probably the order should be changed, for there 
were even more floral glories thau witcheries of sound. 

" There is one portion of the Hotel de Ville with which 
I know you are familiar, for I have heard you speak enthu- 
siastically of it — ^the grand entrance from the Place de la 
Hotel de Ville, with its costliest hangings of cloth and silk, 
gold-fringed and gold-emblemed, sweeping down around, 
columns that seem to have been shaped and gold-incrusted 
during some one of the many dreams of the ' Arabian 
Kights.' There is nothing like it, I think, in the world ; 
as there is certainly nothing else that I have ever seen, 
comparable in costly splendor to its elaborately-decorated 
saloons, with their frescoes from the ablest pencils, their 
panelings in which cost seems to have been entirely 
ignored, and their pictures, which have certainly been 
derived from the unscrupulous ' appropriations ' of centur- 
ies, as well as from the ' liberalities ' of one of the richest 
cities on the globe. 

" There may be more glorious sensations of being in 
another world while yet breathing the breath of this life, 
than those supplied on entering the civic palace ; but I 
have no hope of ever sharing them, and it is not too sure 
that any accession would be desirable, even if one could 
arrive at it. Imagine that more than regally-splendid ves- 
tibule, with its gorgeous hangings and decorations, with 
so many and such rare flowers decking it at every point, 
that all else seemed to be but unreal exhalations sprung up 
in the midst of the most rich and varied garden of the 
generous tropics — with a great fountain of exquisite shape 
and detail in the centre, flashing out its wealth of water, 
every drop a gem in the soft blaza of the innumerable wax- 
lights that made doubly beautiful everything upon which 
it radiated ; with all that could be devised of most gor- 
geous in attendance and reception, scattered among all that 
could be selected of royal, rich, queenly, and fair — pearls 



164: PARIS IN '67. 

and diamonds on brow and bosom of beauty, answered by 
tbe flashing of the like rare gems on the starred and 
crossed and decorated breasts of manhood — silks, satins, 
and velvets, little less than a sea in which the gazer seemed 
to be floating, swimming, almost drowning ; and then add 
to this the most voluptuous music that ever floated from 
horn or rang from string, seeming to drip from that mar- 
vellous baton waved by white-gloved Strauss himself — 
Strauss, to whose notes, even when othersLgave them feeble 
utterance through picked-up orchestras that had never 
known the master-hand, our senses have thrilled and our 
feet bounded so often — add all this, and throw over it all 
that glamour which only comparative youth and full hap- 
piness can bestow, from that fairy-land in which we have 
all believed since childhood — then and only then will some 
dim light creep into the eyes and some suspicion into the 
brain, from that moment of moments enjoyed on enter- 
ing the ' Ball of the Sovereigns ' at tbe Hotel de Yille. 

" But do not suppose that either the splendor or the in- 
terest was exhausted at this mere first glimpse — neither 
was further entered into than the building — the vestibule 
only in each. For, the great escalier once ascended, in the 
midst of that human, musical and floral bewilderment, no 
less than a dozen of those great halls, au deuxihne^ opened 
into each other, all devoted to the purposes of the fete, and 
each, as it seemed, more ravishing than the others in the 
rarity of its pictures, the talent employed upon its frescoes, 
the richness of its hangings, the softened blaze of its wax- 
lights, and the sense of passing into some new and charmed 
existence, inevitable on entering ; while the very ingenuity 
of taste had been employed in creating little passages, at 
the end of which came sweet new surprises, in the way of 
rare flowers, more ingenious arrangements of light, and 
temptations to lose one's self away from the present and 
wander into the charmed past and rainbow future of ro- 



TEE IMPERIAL BALLS. 165 

mance, history, and — let me be honest on the dangerous 
theme — the intoxicating whispers of love-making, that 
might not have been indulged in a more matter-of-fact ex- 
istence ! 

"I have omitted, so far, one of the rarest elements of 
pleasant intoxication, of the whole. It has appeared to 
me that it should crown all, and have no mention while 
any rivalry remained. Does the thought strike you what 
other sense must have been ministered to than even the 
sight, the sound, the pride, the vanity, and the sense of the 
romantic ? What must have been the perfume, think you, 
of all the sweetest flowers of all lands, thus grouped and 
gathered, and flung broadcast with lavish wastefulness ? 
What else than the very drunkenness of deUght must have 
ravished the sense, when all the sources from which Lubin 
and Violet have extracted their thousand odors, were 
blended in one wealth of fragrance, carrying the weight of 
sweetness to the very verge of oppression ? We have all 
heard of the lady who ' died of a rose, in aromatic pain,' 
and I beg you to believe that I could have easily fainted 
from the same influences, under slight additional strain of 
the over-delighted olfactories. 

" Let me recapitulate — something which they say is a 
woman's custom, especially in detailing grievances — and 
see whether I have succeeded in conveying any idea what- 
ever of that wonderful scene. The grand halls of the Ho- 
tel de Ville ; music under Strauss's own hand, and by the 
orchestra brought by Strauss himself from Vienna ; wax- 
lights by the ten thousand ; flowers by the literal cart-load, 
and perfume with no measurement but its own volume; 
ornamentation; pictures ; statues ; five or six thousand well- 
dressed ' nobodies,' half of them fair women, and all be- 
decked and bejeweled in the utmost splendor of a waste- 
ful age ; hundreds of celebrities, noble if not royal, and 
each the cynosure of many eyes ; and, to crown all, empe- 



166 PARIS IN '67. 

rors, kings and royal highnesses enough to have revolu- 
tionized a republican world, each more or less resplendent 
in court blazonry and gemmed orders, while on brow and 
bosom of their ladies blazed diamonds and rubies and 
pearls and sapphires, of such size and cost that they seemed 
seas of light in which kingdoms had been melted. This is 
what I saw, quite as much with my mind as my eyes : this 
is where I was — that part of me which had not floated 
away in the enchantment of luxurious novelty. 

" And here it was that my peculiar adventure occurred, 
or seems to me to have occurred. Something so rare and 
strange that in it all the other events of that more than 
regal night sink away into mere shadowy recollection. 
A glimpse of that^ to which I almost dread to allude, on 
account of the opinions which may be formed of the rela- 
tion, and the feeling which even the recapitulation neces- 
sarily involves, and then I shall have done with the ' Ball 
of the Sovereigns.' 

" You are aware that I am an enthusiastic reader and 
lover of history, and that I have a weakness for finding 
historical personages, and imagining historical events, on 
the spots where the former moved and the latter occurred. 
Attribute to this, if you like, the peculiar incident which 
follows, and the truth of which I could asseverate with 
my dying breath ; or take the alternative, if you please, 
of believing that there are influences beyond ourselves, 
shaping peculiar appearances, or that around certain spots 
there hang, like the perfume around Moore's vase, an aro- 
ma of the past, impossible to exorcise through any lapse 
of years, and liable to be actively invoked at any moment. 

*'It was perhaps an hour past midnight, and the dancing 
begun by the royal party at shortly after ten, and contin- 
ued in nearly all the grand salons, amid that delicious 
blending of waltz-music and flower perfume, had tempo- 
rarily slackened in its intensity. Only a few ' sets ' kept 



TEE IMPERIAL BALLS. 16Y 

the floor in any of the rooms, and the music was for the 
time light, delicate, and somewhat weirdly German. I 
remember so much, and not much more, of the moment 
when I left the seat to which my last partner had led me 
after our charming whirl in a waltz that had at least one 
accomplished performer. I happened not to have become 
engaged in any conversation ; and a little warmed and 
breathing short from the rapid exercise, I approached an 
open window, looking out upon the Place de la Hotel de 
Ville, and passed into the deep embrasure, where the 
heavy hangings left me nearly as much alone as I would 
have been behind closed doors. 

"I looked out listlessly upon the Place, dimly lighted 
from without, but the broad stone esplanade and bordering 
circles plainly visible under the blaze that streamed from 
the gas-lighted front. This space had been kept clear by 
the police, from the first ; and now the tired crowd had 
fallen entirely back from the palace, though they were 
still dimly visible along the Rue Rivoli and eastward. I 
remember noticing this, and that there did not seem to be 
even any of the sergens de ville on guard in the centre of 
the broad Place. Then I remember being recalled by the 
music, and thinking that I was too weary to join the next 
* set ;' and then it seemed to become fainter, and I found 
myself thinking of my dear ones beyond the sea — possibly 
at that moment 07i it. Then, so far as I can remember, 
thought, as thought, became rather a blank abstraction 
than a reality. I seemed to be not only shut within the 
window-embrasure, but in a little world of my own. Let 
it be understood that I was standing, and that I was no 
nearer to physical sleep than I am at the moment of writ- 
ing. It is necessary to understand and believe this, 
which I solemnly aver, in order to appreciate what 
followed. 

" Suddenly I found myself rubbing my eyes, with a sort 



168 PARIS IN^ '67. 

of fancy that I must be asleep or demented. For, without 
my having heard any sound which could have justified 
such an appearance, there was something in the very midst 
of the Place, where the moment before I had seen bare 
stones dimly showing under the light from the front 
and the windows. The ' something' was dusky and tall, 
appearing like a great post or low column, and, heaven 
help my senses, I thought, as the second consciousness came 
to me — it was growifig taller and wider momentarily, 
and something much broader, like a platform, rising be- 
neath it. 

" To say that I was terrified would be to say very little 
— I was nearer horrified, under one dread thought com- 
pounded of the physical and the supernatural. I gripped 
the side of the window-embrasure, and tried to call out to 
attract the attention of others to this singular phenomenon, 
occurring immediately in front of the civic palace. I could 
not utter a word, and knew that for the first time in my 
life I understood the meaning of ' the tongue cleaving to 
the roof of the mouth.' Thenceforth, for any purpose of 
life I might as well have been a post myself, or part of the 
draped window. I was frozen, statue-like, immovable. 
Had I been frightened before ? — horror of horrors ! what 
was I when a red light seemed to stream from the Place 
beyond, on that fearful ' something,' and when I saw that 
it was the guillotine on its platform — the knife shining 
with a dull glare, with here and there a gout of rust 
that might have been formed from coagulated blood? 
The guillotine there, and the palace full of the royal, the 
fair, the distinguished! For whom was it set, and by 
whom ? Ah, I had half the answer, though I could not 
understand the continued silence, so unusual for Parisian 
mobs ; for, as if they had sprung from the ground like so 
many mushrooms, the whole Place seemed filled with a 
dim, shadowy, gesticulating crowd, uttering no audible 



TEE IMPERIAL BALLS. 169 

word, but seething and moving in wild commotion. Ah, 
how I tried once more to call out, then ! — with no more 
effect than had been produced in my past effort. No ! 
the guillotine was there, the mad crowd was there — 
who might not be a victim ? — and yet I could give no 
sign of warning ! Why did they not shout as well as 
gesticulate, so that others might become aware of the 
awful preparations, and succor arrive before some mm.'der 
should be accomplished ? 

" How long this endured, I do not know ; it seemed 
long — it may have been but a moment. There came more 
than one new feature into the dreadful scene. There were 
forms on the platform— the horrible knife rose and fell as 
if in trial of its readiness. 'Still no sound. Then there 
was a movement in the crowd, and it seemed to part into 
two waves, gesticulating yet more wildly. Then through 
between the waves rolled in a fearful vehicle, half cart and 
half coffin. Soldiers of an antique uniform guarded it ; and 
men and women, with wringing hands, were huddled into 
it like so many sheep going to the butcher. It was the 
tumbril — I knew it at once — one more of the bygone 
horrors was being revived ! "What next was I to witness, 
on that night which had seemed to me so splendid in 
imagination ? 

" What next ? This question again was answered but 
too soon, while all the powers of my body and my mind 
seemed struggling but vanquished m the unequal combat 
for expression. Out of the tumbril stepped, or rather was 
dragged, a woman in white — young, handsome, but oh, 
with such dreadful despair and horror on her white face ! 
I saw them force her up the steps of the platform ; I saw 
the executioner grasp her with brutal violence ; I saw the 
mad crowd waving arms and caps in fiendish exultation ; 
I saw the victim's last struggle as she was strapped to the 
fatal plank and it fell horizontal ; I saw — 



170 PARIS IIT '67. 

" N"©, thank God, I did not see the descent of the knife, 
the fall of the severed head, and the spouting of the red 
blood : I think I should have gone mad indeed if I had 
seen that ! For my struggle for expression grew fiercer, 
and either life or bond must have given way. Heaven 
be praised, I could scream ! — I did so — the scream subsid- 
ing into a moan as my eyes closed and I fell backward, 
half out of the window-embrasure, my fall broken by the 

ever ready arm of Count , who had heard my first cry 

and rushed forward to discover whence it proceeded. 

" I did not faint entirely, nor, I think, did the incident 
produce much commotion in the salons^ where each was so 
occupied with some special thought or feeling as to be 
naturally oblivious to the mere cry of a nervons woman. 
Only a moment later, with the Count still at my side, I was 
again looking from the same window, but upon how differ- 
ent a scene ! There was no dark * something ' there — no 
crowd of fierce and excited sans culottes — guillotine, tum- 
bril and victims had all disappeared ; and behind me the 
sweet Strauss music, the floating perfume, and the chiming 
steps of the waltzers told me that it was 1867, and the 
apotheosis of Baron Haussmann, who would not be likely 
to tolerate any violent proceedings of that character in the 
very faces of his imperial, royal and noble guests ! But I 
remembered then, even better than before, that on the very 
spot where I had just seen that spectral horror — ^there, in 
the middle of the Place de la Hotel de Yille, then the fatal 
Place de Greve, stood the guillotine and rolled the tumbril 
loaded with its doomed, through all the Keign of Terror, 
when more than twenty thousand fell beneath the knife ! 

" I think that the world has not wealth enough to tempt 
me voluntarily to look on that sight again ; but it is worth 
something, even through that horror, to have seen, as I 
know that I saw with my waking eyes, though without 
knowing why or how, the veritable guillotine and tumbril 



THE IMPERIAL BALLS. 171 

of the days of blood ! Can you explain the mystery to 
me ? No ? — neither can I to you ; the wonder remains as I 
found it. But you can imagine that I have a special recol- 
lection of the ' Ball of the Sovereigns ' at the Hotel de 
Ville, more sacred as more terrible than all else in mem- 
ory, and that the imperial and royal occupants of the car- 
riages did not absorb me quite so closely as they had done, 
when we rolled away and the great pageant faded, at some- 
thing near daylight on Sunday morning." 



XVI. 

THE CZAE'S BALL AT THE TUILERIES. 

As already intimated, tlie " Counselor's Lady " is also the 
chronicler of the second and yet more important, if less 
numerously-attended, of the imperial balls ; and as her own 
language supplies sufficient comment upon the difference 
of the two in scope and intention, let her be heard with- 
out further introduction. 

"K I have given you a somewhat fearful picture at the 
end of my account of the ball at the Hotel de Yille," 
resumes the lady, " I have something of a different sort to 
inflict upon you, in attempting to give you some faint idea 
of the great event which crowned all — something as select 
and recherche as the other had been extensive and all-admit- 
ting — the ball especially given to the Czar of Russia, and 
attended by the King of Prussia and the immense con- 
course of sovereigns and scions of royal houses, then in 
Paris, on the following Monday evening, the 10th of June. 

The same overwhelming magnificence of arrangement 
and attendance which makes description nearly impossible, 
renders the occasion the best worth describing of its kind 
in all the annals of festivity. No monarch upon earth, 
past or present, ever before so gathered around him the 
royal and noble — even if another has supplied, as I can 
scarcely believe, a corresponding glory of arena and lavish 
luxury of detail. In the history of the festivities of a 
splendid age, it will beyond doubt supply a most memor- 
able part, for reasons as numerous as easily apparent. I 



THE CZAR'S BALL. 173 

can but wish, now more than ever, that my task had fallen 
into the hands of a more practiced chronicler. 

" Of all events, this should be described most sensation- 
ally, and with least intrusion of dry details and descrip- 
tions; meanwhile, it unfortunately happens that what the 
body of readers will most eagerly desire to know, with 
reference to it, can ^only be conveyed by those details 
of ceremony and descriptions of personal appearance. 
What can I do, then, except try to be instructive to the 
great world of absentees, even at the risk of failing to be 
picturesque ? 

*' And now for that feeble glimpse of the Grand Ball, as it 
lingers in brief memory and the note-book to which I com- 
mitted some of my impressions on — I wish that I could 
say the following morning^ but candor compels me to write 
afternoon. But this should be premised with the fact that 
in the place of the six to ten thousand invitations issued 
to the festivity at the Hotel de Ville, not more than six to 
eight hundred had been issued to that at the Tuileries, 
while the command had been given that evening instead 
of court-dress should be assumed by the gentlemen, and 
that something of the air and exclusiveness of the 'private 
ball ' should be imparted to it in all its details. Not the- 
easiest of things to do, either in the ' toning down ' of 
splendor, or the imparting of confidence to guests, as may 
easily be imagined. 

" That particular part of the line of carriages bearing 
guests, in which I happened to be ensconced, must have 
reached the Gardens of the Tuileries about half-past nine, 
coming across from the Rue St. Honore to the great gate 
leading in from the Rue Rivoliat the Place desPyramides. 
The Gardens themselves were entirely cleared ; but without 
the gate, and in the wide Rue, sitting in my open carriage, 
I found the sensation of the very worst fright I ever ex- 
perienced — a real human one, and so nearer tangible than 



174 PARIS IJSr '67. 

that at the Hotel de Ville ; in other words, I came face to 
face with a Parisian mob, in what seemed to be its most 
ferocious aspect before breaking into open violence and 
the inevitable murder following. Far as the eye could see 
in the comparatively dim light of the lamps and the young 
moon hanging in the west — for the illumination directly to 
be spoken of had not yet commenced, — a densely-packed 
crowd surrounded the gardens, stretched away into the 
distance, pressed close against gate and railings, hemmed 
in the carriages so that with all the efforts of the police 
they could scarcely move two steps forward without a 
check. Workmen, many of them, from their blouses ; 
something worse than workmen, probably, some of those 
who wore costlier material than the blue chambray; no 
small proportion of women of the blanchisseuse and wine- 
seller condition, capped and ferocious. But oh, those 
visages of the male mob of Paris ! Oh, the thin cheeks, 
the lowering brows, the shock heads, the wild, bad eyes 
that scowled half-hungry defiance as the owners thrust 
them into the very feces of the shuddering occupants of 
the open carriages ! Oh, the clenching hands, the mutter- 
ing lips, the sneering and yet too-earnest tones, the evi- 
dence that only a spark was wanting to explode the mag- 
azine of temporarily-indolent hate — that never tiger tore 
to pieces its prey with more demoniac joy than those 'dear 
children' of the Emperor, the hand of power for one 
moment lifted from their necks, would have shown an mur- 
dering the whole array of guests, from the host down- 
ward, slaying the male members of the cortege, butcher- 
like, with quick and sudden blows, and making a horrible 
feast of rapine and twice-terrible slaughter among the dainty 
flesh of the weak women who accompanied them ! Ugh, 
I shudder to think of dozens of threatening, glaring, 
frightful faces, thrust into my own in the few moments of 
pause at the gate, in spite of the efforts of the police to 



TEE CZAR'S BALL. 175 

prevent the outrage, and creating the same pleasant im- 
pression of security as if a whole menagerie of ferocious 
beasts had been present, uncaged, and each held by only a 
cord of pack-thread that might snap at any instant ! Yes, 
thank you ! — I was quite near enough to 1793 at that par- 
ticular crisis, or at least I felt that I was ; and I have no 
wish to make the nearer acquaintance of those most polite, 
subservient and lamb-like people. I wonder if the Em- 
peror himself, bravely as he goes among them, almost or 
quite unattended, does not some day expect to see the 
tiger spring and feel the hot breath on his cheek and the 
fangs snapping at his throat ? A pleasant remembrance 
and a cheering fancy, truly ! Possibly we have had enough 
of this, as certainly I had enough of it in thirty seconds ! 

" At all events we passed the gates, after a brief delay, 
and were in the Tuileries Gardens, set down at the grand 
entrance, which, as you will remember, is in the centre of 
the garden-width as well as of the Palace front. But just 
then, with the recollection of my late fright fresh upon 
me, and with the magnificent novelty of the scene as 
alighting royalty and celebrity surrounded me like an 
overflowing wave in which I was nothing — -just then there 
sprung up a wonder so overwhelming that I think every 
foot paused in the spot where it had been resting, and 
scarcely a breath was drawn for many seconds. Whether 
the lights had before existed but kept low, and were at 
that instant flung into full blaze — or whether by some elec- 
tric arrangement all the lighting took place then and at 
once, I cannot pretend to say. I only know that in an in- 
stant sprung into full glory, from mere ordinary evening 
light, the illumination of the Tuileries Gardens, the re- 
collection of which still flashes in my eyes whenever I 
think of that evening, as if some Genie from the Land of 
Fire had temporarily introduced me to all the blazing 
wonders of his kingdom, dazzled me to his heart's content. 



1Y6 PARIS IN '67. 

and then sent me away again into the darkness of the 
ordinary world. 

" I have been present at ordinary * illuminations ' for 
victories, in cities ; and I have been no stranger to the 
mimic or real glories of the most magnificently-lighted 
gardens in the world ; but in the subtle shapes and over- 
mastering brilliancy of this, all else seems to be dim and 
shadowy. Do not expect me to describe the exact pro- 
cess by which all this effect was accomplished. Have I 
not hefore told you that I was dazzled and blinded ? And 
yet a little attempt must be made, to ' save my credit,' 
as we used to say when I was a school-girl. 

"You know the Gardens of the Tuileries — that portion 
of them, especially, which lie immediately in front of the 
grand entrance of the Palace — the wealth of fine trees 
which make just enough of shade, in the daytime, to sup- 
ply the loveliest of walks ; the shrubs from every clime, 
with fl.owers of every form and color, which make the 
whole nearer portion of the Gardens one wonderful piece 
of floral embroidery. Then you know, too, some of the 
fire-witcheries of the Jardin Mabille and the Chateau des 
Fleurs — the skill with which great rows of lily-bells, 
which would seem entirely natural if they were not so 
gigantic, are made to burst, at a given moment, into lily- 
bells with tongues of flame ; and how the globes of fire 
are so disposed there as to dazzle anew at every turn and 
present continual new groupings of brilliancy. Multiply 
all this by an hundred or two if you can ; then add to it 
little lines of globed colored lights creeping around the 
roots of trees and shrubs, as if an endless menagerie of 
fiery serpents had been let out to twine and circle every- 
where ; and hang from every bough, and apparently from 
every cluster of leaves, a colored globe or lantern, with 
such a variety in shade that they seem to mock the hues 
of the very flowers they rival. Extend this up from 



TSE CZAR'S BALL, 177 

shrubs to trees, until there seems to be a line of light half- 
way skyward, brighter than the Milky Way, and almost as 
countless as the orbs composing it; and throw over walk 
after walk arches of delicate pipe, the agency invisible ia 
the absence of daylight, but little jets of light shooting 
and radiating from them with the soft freedom of so many 
issues of bright water ; then, when the extreme of beauty 
in fire and artificial light seems to have been reached, let 
great broad flames of calcium blaze stream down from airy 
distances, continually varying in color, and fading and 
glowing as if high over all a comet of ever-changing ray 
was shedding down portions of the 'light which no mortal 
may know.' Let this all reflect upon the glory of white 
statues and sparkling fountains, and the noble front of 
that wilderness of separate palaces, the Tuileries, and flash 
far away upon the great column of the Place de la Con- 
corde, and seem to light up the scene and its farther banks 
on the one hand, and to touch the great city with a broad 
belt of flame on the other. Do all this, and bring into play, 
in addition, an imagination of at least respectable power, 
and you will form some idea, which I know that my words 
cannot convey, of the most magnificent and overwhelming 
of all fire spectacles yet seen by the people of this century 
— the illumination of the Tuileries Gardens at the Graiid 
Ball to the Czar and the King of Prussia — to the latter oi 
whom, by the way, I believe that the courtesy was among 
the hollowest paid during the entire summer, only that 
possibly the light was intended to blind him and to dazzle 
the eyes of Count Bismarck as to the real merits of the 
Luxembourg question ! 

" But there was something upon which the blaze of that 
illumination shone, a part of the Tuileries and yet not of 
it, which made the second notable feature of that imperial 
magnificence. This w^as a platform built especially for the 
occasion, outside one of the great drawing-room windows, 
8* 



178 PARIS IN '6 7. 

approached from without by thirty or forty low steps, and 
from within from the ball-room floor by the full-length 
window ; with a canopy of green silk and gold, the Empe- 
ror's golden bees studding it, and the whole so richly 
draped and ornamented with the rarest flowers and costly 
gems of art, that it seemed a part of Aladdin's palace left 
behind when the rest of the structure vanished. It was 
here that the imperial and royal party sunned themselves, 
so to speak, in that wonderful light, and added to the bril- 
liancy of the scene, to near spectators, by the reflections 
on gem and order and decoration. The structure seemed 
to belong to the light, and the light to the structure. 
Both were wonderful, unrivaled, magnificent in their way. 
Had I not better stop before I exhaust all my adjectives, 
especially as I have no ordinary scene to deal with, from 
my limited vocabulary, in the events of the evening within 
the palace ? 

" But this reminds me that the vestibule was as far as I 
had progressed. Let us go on, for it is ill keeping a crowd 
of royal notabilities waiting. 

"I thought that I had before been ^received' — more 
than once in the course of my life ; but all that I had ever 
before seen of this detail of ' society ' seemed to me at 
the moment mere neglect and rudeness beside that highest 
development of a science in which the French excel all 
other nations as if they belonged to a different race. Such 
clouds of rich-liveried attendants, each seeming to blend 
the obsequiousness of the servant with the suave dignity 
of the gentleman, chanced to be in exactly the right place 
at the moment when every lady stepped from her carriage 
and passed within the vestibule, and so deftly and quickly 
relieved her of cloaks and wraps and dropped into her 
hand the little ivory check that was to redeem them, that 
not one but appeared to be the object of special attention, 
and to have precisely the proper servant at her exclusive 



TEE CZAR'S BALL. 179 

command. And then siicli a Master of Ceremonies met 
every lady in the vestibule, just at the entrance of the 
music-flower atmosphere, at 'precisely the moment when 
her wraps had fallen, her rohes settled into graceful fold, 
and she was ready to do fashionable battle to the death- 
met each as if she alone, of all that assembly, was the 
object for which his unimpeachable evening-dress had been 
assumed, and seemed rather to sweep than conduct her up 
the grand escalier and toward the scdo/is of festivity — 
that he seemed to be multiplied into at least an hundred, 
all possessing the same rare qualifications. 

" But I must pause again, as I did pause, a little in defi- 
ance of etiquette, at the escalier. You have seen that 
noble central staircase of the Tuileries, and know what 
it is at ordinary times ; what must it have been, think you, 
when the rarest flowers from all the world seemed to have 
twined around it as if the hundred years of a ' Sleeping 
Beauty' had overgrown the whole palace with glory to 
hide decay ! But ah, there were other and terribly-hand- 
some flowers there — flowers that had grown in no garden, 
— nothing less than a line of the Emperor's splendid, richly- 
uniformed six-feet Cent Gardes^ crowned with the silver 
helmet and long drooping white plume, and filling each 
end of every second step with magnificent and immovable 
human statuary ! 

" Statuary, indeed ! for I believe that the palace miglit 
have burned or fiiUen under the shock of an earthquake, 
and not one would have moved without orders — just as the 
stout old Roman guards at Herculaneum are said to have 
stood motionless while the shower of hot ashes from Ve- 
suvius gathered up to their chins and then smothered out 
their lives. 

" Those splendid fellows not only seemed immovable, 
but were so, as I happen to know ; for a pleasant but very 
laughable contretemps occured just when I was on one of 



180 PARIS IIT '6 7. 

the lowest steps of the escalier, some hint of which has 
already crept, as I see, into the French newspapers. It 
created, for a moment, quite a buzz among those who 
observed and understood it, and would have forced a smile, 
I think, even from the grave lips of the Emperor. Miss 
H , one of our pretty little American belles par excel- 
lence^ finding her slipper loosened when half-way up the 
stair, stopped and stooped to fasten it, leaning against 
what, from its immovability, she took to be one of many 
statues of military personages lining the steps. It was the 
form of a Cent Garde against which she supported herself 
by one hand and her snowy left shoulder ; and that form 
remained as stony and motionless, outwardly, as the 
statue could have been — whatever the sensations that may 
have surged through the pulses of the soldier at being thus 
brought within touch of a warm breathing beauty so far 
beyond his ordinary reach. The silent figure breathed, 
however, even if lightly ; and the lady's absorbed senses 
finally took the alarm at feeling a trembling motion under 
her hand ; so that, with a pretty scream, half fright and 
half apology, she drew herself suddenly away, forced on 
the refractory slipper, and tripped up the escalier a little 
more nimbly than she had intended. 

" But what a spectacle met the unaccustomed eye and 
even dazzled one used to festive splendors, when we had 
been marshaled by the courteous Master of Ceremonies 
through two magnificent salons^ au deuxieyne^ each per- 
fect in frescoes and decorations, regal in its appointments 
and furniture, blooming with flowers and ablaze with a 
thousand lights, into the grand salle du trone of the even- 
ing — the great ball-room of the Tuileries ! You know 
the wonderful size of that room, though I suppose, like 
myself, you could not render the result in feet and inches 
— only say ' one of the largest in the world,' and certainly 
* one of the most gorgeous.' Frescoes, gilded ornamenta- 



THE CZAR'S BALL. 181 

tion, rare flowers in matchless profusion in raised vases, 
a great candelabra radiating softest and yet most brilliant 
light from so many points that it seemed to be a blending 
of sun and moon just overhead — I do not see how you can 
do otherwise than receive these little descriptive items in 
the gross, and apply and elaborate them at your leisure. 

" And here a word of the lights. I have used the phrase 
'candelabra' instead of 'chandelier,' which really means 
the same thing — because the first conveys a more nearly 
correct idea. Do you suppose that the Tuileries is lighted 
with gas for festive occasions ? — that female beauty, which 
I must own to be sometimes a trifle delicate and in need 
of nursing, is at such times subjected to the searching influ- 
ences of that inflammable discovery of the nineteenth cen- 
tury ? If you do, you err seriously : the same description 
of light which shone upon Marguerite de Valois and Marie 
de Medicis, radiates upon Eugenie de Montijo and her 
attendant luminaries. Wax-candles — nothing else through- 
out ; wax-candles in such unlimited profusion that the pro- 
duction of a world would seem to be consumed in a single 
evening ; but nothing more glaring on the female cheek, 
on such occasions, than this soft kiss of warm golden 
splendor, which takes away pallor where it exists, and does 
not deal too harshly with rouge and enamel. There! I 
have let you into one of the secrets of my sex ; let me catch 
you making undue use of the admission if you think it 
advisable ! 

"But now I know that you are ipipatient, or at least 
your readers will be, to see more closely some of the royal 
and other celebrities occupying their position in the grand 
salon, and to hear of the action of the ball proper. Know, 
then, that at the end of the room right from the entrance 
there was a raised dais or platform, richly-carpeted, and 
with two carpeted steps leading up to it ; that on the dais 
were precisely twenty -five chairs —I think that for some 



182 PARIS IN '67. 

reason or other I counted them a dozen times over ; and 
that on and around that dais, during the evening, shone the 
great luminaries in whose blaze we were all basking — 
republicans quite as much as any of the others. 

" I should say, however, that the imperial party entered 
the salon after the most of the company had assembled — 
perhaps at about ten or half^past ; and I cannot find a more 
appropriate place than the present to tell you of a little 
incident connected with their entrance, which the news- 
paper people are quite likely to omit, intentionally or other- 
wise, and which seemed to me to display one of two things 
in the Empress — wonderful childish naivete, or wonderful 
artful mannerism of a peculiar character. The Empress 
entered on the arm of the Czar of Russia as the special 
guest of the evening, the Emperor and other notabilities 
inamediately before, behind, and around. Of course she 
was at the moment engaged in the very highest exercise 
of hospitality — introducing a guest and endeavouring to 
place him at ease ; and yet can you imagine what she did ? 
I do not think it at all probable that six hours could have 
elapsed since her last sight of the Duchess Anna Mm-at 
de Mouchy, who has been for some time one of her pets ; 
but at all events she left the arm of the Czar, without a 
word of apology, rushed one-third of the way across the 
room, with the air of a mother flying to a beloved child not 
met for a twelve-month, seized and kissed the young 
Duchess in a way that I can only describe as devouring 
— leaving the Czar in what I could see was a very awkward 
position, stopping the whole progress of the imperial party, 
and causing the Em23eror to look at her in a manner which 
would not have been pleasant if Z had been the subject of 
the glance and the gazer my husband! This may have 
been quite ' the thing to do ' — probably it was ; at all 
events it was what we call ' stagey,' and I should not have 
liked to risk the impression of my being underbred, had I 



THE CZAR'S BALL. 183 

performed the same evolution under similar circum- 
stances. 

"The dais found its occupants at last, and I shall en- 
deavor to give you a brief descriptive word of a ^qw 
who then and later filled the chairs on it, as I saw 
them then and to a better advantage afterward, when 
dancing or moving among the guests. 

" First, the Czar of Russia, the special guest of the even- 
ing — a tall, large man, moustached, broad-faced, inclined to 
be blonde and northern-looking as well as fine-looking — 
older than most of his pictures, and beginning to remind 
one of his imperial and imperious father, Nicholas. He 
would have looked much better, I think, in anything else 
than his complete suit of white cloth covered with orders — 
the general efiect so unusual to our ' evening' eyes. 

" The Empress entered with the Czar, leaned on his arm, 
and sat beside him on the dais ; and she is well entitled to 
a place as early as the second. She is certainly very hand- 
some yet, and wears her dignity proudly ; though not 
even my regard for my o wn sex can prevent my noticing 
that she is losing something of her fine outline of form as 
she grows a shade stouter, and that the once clear skin is 
thickening so that the veins on the temples need to be sup- 
plied artificially instead of showing through as they used 
to do. I should do very little violence to my impressions, 
in applying to her the well-known alliteration, 'fair, fat and 
forty' — somehow that is her atmosphere. She was heavily 
enameled, very decollete, and a little sad-faced when in 
repose, as she may well have been, even in the midst of 
these splendors. Her outer adornings certainly won my 
eyes, if I could speculate upon her jDhysique. She wore a 
robe of some white Algerian silk material, with a thread of 
silver running through it, and bias-flounced ; a ribbon bow 
of diamonds on the right shoulder, fastening a broad tri- 
colored ribbon which crossed the breast and ended in a 



184: PARIS IN '67. 

jeweled order at the left Mp; a necklace of black velvet, 
closely studded with solitaire diamonds of great size and 
beauty, with depending strips of strung solitaires falling 
fern-like down bosom and back, until they almost formed a 
covering for what otherwise had none ; a bouquet of lilies- 
of-the valley in her hand, and a heavy diamond circlet 
or demi-crown spanning her front head, which she had 
removed during the course of the evening, because it either 
was, or ought to have been tliought^ too heavy for comfort. 
If the Anna de Mouchy demonstration was real, so was 
this, probably ; if otherwise, this may have been a strip 
of the same pattern. 

"But I must pause here again to make an explanation, 
covering — or perhaps the opposite — others than the Em- 
press. I have spoken of her as being ' very decollete,' and 
' heavily enameled.' There is no occasion of repeating the 
terms for each of the female notabilities present, though I 
might do so with propriety for most of them — all, certainly, 
except the very young. 'Very decollete ' does not express 
the whole fact, at all, with the Empress. She had about 
four inches of waist above the belt. She was, to use plain 
words, half-naked. So were her guests; so were her 
maids-of-honor ; we were all more or less half-naked. 
Either I should not much have cared to have my husband 
see me at that juncture, or I should have preferred to have 
him see me only ! 

" Then as to the enameling ! The Empress could no 
more have shown her natural face than changed the length 
of her D'Alba nose. ISTor could any of the rest of us — we 
were enameled, rouged, daubed, plastered — artistically, of 
course, but nevertheless daubed and plastered. Felix, the 
wonderful ' artist ' of the Rue St. Hon ore, made me up, 
coated me, finished me off, as if I had been a building and 
he a stone-mason. I was very handsome, when he had 
done with me, but I was not myself by any manner of 



THE CZAR'S BALL. 185 

means; I looked in the mirror, and fell in love with the 
girlish face that I saw there — something that I am not 
vain enough to do habitually. * So let it be understood that 
we all more or less wore masks that evening ; and if any 
of my hurried descriptions fiil to convey an idea of the 
actual people, the fault will not be mine, but Felix's or that 
of some brother ' artist.' The descriptions will be of what 
J saw. 

*' And now to the Emperor and his special companion 
of the evening, the sister of the Czar — Grand Duchess 
Marie something, if I do not misremember the name. 

" The Emperor was among the best-dressed men pres- 
ent ; certainly among the most modest, in his plain black 
evening suit, with no startling ornament whatever, except 
the broad red ribbon of Grand Commander of the Legion 
of Honor, which crossed his breast, and the great star of 
the Order, one side of which showed from under his lapel. 
But oh, his face ! that took away all thought from his gar- 
ments ! He looked so listless, so lifeless, so distrait, so 
broken ! — so impossible to be amused even by the pleas- 
ant attentions of the Grand Duchess, so much as if his 
thoughts were upon a distracted kingdom, a hostile Europe, 
a sick boy, and Maximilian in peril of his making ! And 
yet the face seemed nobler then than I had ever before 
seen it ; and more than once, yes, more than twice, when 
he folded his arms a little wearily and seemed to say : 'Ah 
me I — I wish all this mockery was over ! ' the resemblance 
in face and figure to the pictures of the First Napoleon 
was startingly marked and suggestive. I caught myself 
asking, when the likeness struck me once and again — What 
does this mean? Is it family, all? — or position? or some- 
thing else about which people do not care to talk, and about 
which a mere guest at one of his balls had probably as well 
avoid gossipping ? 

"There was nothing special about the Russian Grand 



186 PARIS 12^ '67. 

Duchess, a tall, dark-haired woman of forty or fifty, with a 
pleasing manner, nothing marked except her diamonds, 
which were of wonderful size, profusion and lustre. The 
Emperor was evidently pleased with her, and as attentive 
as a distrait man could be, whose heart and brain were 
absorbed. 

" Next, by right of power if for no other cause, came 
the King of Prussia, a tall man, young-looking for his 
advancing years, moustached and side- whiskered, scarcely 
seeming to have strength and stamina to command the 
success so literally showered upon him within the past two 
years. But perhaps— ah, here was the answer to my 
doubt, in the very tall man, plainly-dressed and with few 
decorations, who approached and took me by the hand in 
recognition of a previous presentation. 

*' Bismarck ! sharp ringing Sclavonic-sounding name of a 
strange man, who is certainly one of the * men of the day.' 
Very tall, as I have before said ; rather angular in figure ; 
blonde ; bald ; small-headed ; moustached ; with large pro- 
truding blueish-gray eyes ; his whole manner something 
that cannot be described, while it does not appear to be 
anything seriously different from the common — a manner 
urbane and courteous at will, but evidently capable of being 
something very different when the other side of the will 
is aroused. I found time and opportunity for a chat with 
the man who has given the first effectual check to the 
world's worst tyrant, Austria ; told him the truth, that I 
had rather made his acquaintance than that of any other 
man in Europe, and had the pleasure of being assured that 
such words from American lips were always welcome, as 
he felt fully convinced of the sympathy of the best Amer- 
ican statesman with his efforts and policy; and then the 
* man of the day ' passed away into the whirl of other 
conversationists. 

" Here my eyes again catch the sweet azure orbs of Anna 



THE CZAR'S BALL. 187 

Murat de Mouchy, an American girl by birth and early 
residence, as you are aware ; and I half forgive the Empress 
her affectation — if it was one — of being hungry to kiss 
her ! A perfect blue-eyed, sweet-faced blonde, of medium 
height, or perhaps a line less, looking twenty or twenty- 
two, with splendid neck and arms, altogether fine plump 
figure, and a manner so sunshiny and genial that no won- 
der the Parisians sometimes call her '• La Petite Chaton^ 
literally, ' the Pet Kitten.' She wore ablue tarlatane, with 
all her jewelry in large blue turquoises — a combination which 
would have been fearfully trying to most complexions ; but 
to hers — Rubens might have come back, specially to paint 
that exquisite propriety of form and adornment. 

" The Prince of Wales, in black evenmg dress, with the 
jeweled Star of the Garter his only decoration — looking 
manlier, and handsomer, and yet less lovable than as we 
saw him when yet a mere boy. He has evidently more 
talent of a certain kind than we, or England, thought : it 
is sad to fear that the son of a noble father, and a good, 
even if crotchety mother, may be found to have less prin- 
ciple than had been hoped. The Prince of Wales has filled 
too many mouths in Paris, dming the season ; let us turn 
to his sister — 

"' Princess Alice of Great Britain and Ireland,' as she 
is designated in royal ceremonials ; a modestly-dressed and 
most lovable-looking girl, blonde, sweet-faced, and radiating 
the very soul of goodness in her smiles. Queen Victoria 
is at least happy in her daughters. 

" Let me present a foil to the sweet young English prin- 
cess, in one whom I saw standing near her at a certain 
moment — the Princess Metternich, twenty-five or six, tall 
and angular, with an apish face, 'dressed to death'— as 
our mothers used to say — gaudily, and with too many dia- 
monds ; in the habit of driving a yellow chariot, and 
reputed to be 'fast' and shameless as she is hideously 



188 PARIS IN '67. 

ugly. Ugh ! it is no trouble to turn away from her^ in 
spite of the flash of her hereditary diamonds and that grand 
ball of her own, in which she succeeded in vieing with the 
Russian embassy, rivaling the Emperor as to cost and 
splendor, and making herself conspicuous to her fullest 
desire. Mem. — I did not go to that ball. I should like to 
have been caught putting myself under obligations to such 
a hostess ! 

" Prince Napoleon, fat and quiet — they say he has been 
a good deal crushed, lately, though he may be only * biding 
his time ' — his face a heavy First ISTapoleon, and his brow 
sombre. The Princess Clothilde, his wife, and as you 
remember, a daughter of the King of Italy — looking as 
homely and as much like a short-nosed brownie as ever, 
though good beyond a doubt, and beginning to show ^^fadk, 
suspicion. 

*' Count de la Ferriere, First Chamberlain to the 
Emperor, Master of Ceremonies by right of his office, and 
by that far better right of being the very Admirable Crich- 
ton of all accomplishments. The Count must be fifty or 
fifty-five, but looks younger — gray, with a fine profile, the 
courtliest manners imaginable, and considered the hand- 
somest gentleman at court. He has the reputation of 
having been the most successful in his attentions to Ameri- 
can ladies, of any living Frenchman ; and as a pendant to 
this it is also reported that he is under engagement of mar- 
riage to an American belle. Miss X , who will thus 

enter permanently into the charmed inner circleof Paris- 
ian court-life. 

" One more hasty portrait of a Parisian celebrity, before 
passing to another detail that may prove of more interest 
in America. Myj^resentation to Count Bismarck had been 
originally made by the gentleman of whom I am about to 
say a word — Colonel O'Gorman-Mahon, once a rival 
of O'Connell in popularity and power in the British 



THE CZAR'S BALL. 189 

Parliament — friend of Bismarck and many other leading 
European statesmen, and a man of markedly-fine, tall per- 
sonal appearance, in spite of his age — as well as the very 
highest type of the Irish gentleman. I need scarcely say 
that he is a cousin of Mr. Richard 6'Gorman, the distin- 
guished Irish- American member of the New York bar, who 
is well known to he a scion of that proud old Hiber- 
nian family. The gallant and courteous old gentleman has 
not forgotten his native land, by the way; for, after much 
friendly conference, pointed by not a few favors at court, 
he spoke warmly of his kinsman on the American side of 
the Atlantic, and kindly gave me letters to Mr. Richard 
O'Gorman's parents, still living in Ireland, which I shall 
some day be but too happy to present and avail myself of 
their prestige.* 

" And now a few words of the Americans present ; for 
I am by no means disposed to run through the catalogue 
of royal and princely nobodies. I think that there were 
not more than thirty or forty of our country-j^eople, alto- 
gether, at the Tuileries that night, though the country was 
far from being ill represented ; and in the midst of other 
surroundings, I only saw and recognized a few — only four, 
I think — of male Americans: Commissioners Charles B. 
Seymour and Frank Leslie, both of New York, looking 
blythe_and_ debonair, as is the wont of both ; Senator 
Sherman, who seemed to be abstractedly thinking about 
the Capitol at Washington ; and General Dix, military- 
looking, in spite of the years and white hairs which seem 
to stamp him as almost too old for his arduous position. 

" By right of justice, Mrs. General Dix and her daughter 
should come first among the ladies, as they accompanied 
the ambassador. Mrs. Dix, gray but energetic-looking, 
and creating an impression of supplying much of the vigor 
of the family — to give it no stronger name y Miss Kate 
Dix, a pet in Paris ever since her advent here, tall, blonde 

* Since the above was in type, the regretted death of Mr. Eichard 0' Gorman, Sr., 
lias been announced. 



190 PARIS IN '67. 

and handsome, but with a face somewhat too severe and 
reticent for her years. But here I must fall into the Jen- 
kinsian initials, for I have done with public names. Mrs. 

R , a pretty and well-figured blonde, attracting very 

marked attention among people whose attention is distinc- 
tion. Mrs. P , strikingly well dressed, very attractive 

without being strictly handsome, and quite dividing atten- 
tion with the lady last named. Mrs. M S , of Fifth 

Avenue, carrying much of the atmosphere of Murray Hill 
in"Tier rich robes, fine jewelry and proud bearing. Mrs. 

B S , of New York and Staten Island, plumply 

handsome, with fine dark eyes, uuimpeachably well dressed, 
and apparently as much at home at the Tuileries as she 

could have been in her own drawing-room. Miss B 

V , of Kentucky, blonde and sweet-looking, and con- 
sidered on© of the handsomest women present, chaperoned 
by the lady last named, and pleasingly representing the 
'Border States.' 

" There was one other American lady present, the last I 
can name, and worthy of separate mention — Madame 

E , a small, wiry woman, approaching middle age, and 

at the first glance not attractive, but with a world of man- 
aging intellect under her brown hair and flashing out of 
her brown eyes — a smart, active, diplomatic woman, said 
to have more influence at court than any other American 
lady at Paris, and certainly one of the most valuable friends 
that American society-seekers have found during the 
imperial festivities. 

" And now enough of personal glimpses, few and imper- 
fect as they have been. A little time and space must 
Bufiice me for the action of the ball, which did not wait, in 
reality, so long as I have kept it waiting in description. 

"The Emperor and Empress did not dance. The latter 
was no doubt prevented by the ill health of the Prince 
Imperial, and the former by his own ill health and the 



THE CZAR'S BALL. 191 

unfortunate Mexican perils just then — though we did not 
know how nearly — closing around poor Maximilian. Of 
course no one else danced before or at the same time with 
the royal party, for which two quadrilles of eight com- 
menced at about eleven o'clock, led by the Prince of Wales 
and other youthful potentates in embryo. There was 
nothing peculiar in these quadrilles, for monarchy 'kicks 
up its heels ' very much like common humanity — except 
that the many gems and jeweled orders produced a bril- 
liant eifect when in motion, and that the lovely Princess 
Metternich tripped during the course of it, fell sprawling, 
and raised another of those general commotions from which 
I would always prefer to be excused, even if I had more 
grace than she to make the operation less embarrass- 
in 2f! 

" The opening quadrilles over, as if there had been some 
arduous labor demanding recompense, came the distribu- 
tion of presents to the favored participators — elegant little 
bouquets of the rarest and costliest flowers, shaped into 
symbols of various orders and held together by gemmed 
ribbons. Then, ' the King of Persia having dined, the rest 
of the world might go to dinner;' the royal party returned 
to their dais, to the Aladdin balcony or the reserved gar- 
dens, where living flowers, fountains, concealed music, and 
all the other other appliances of luxury, made up the 
most perfect dream of enchantment — or mingled with 
guests on the floor, and dancing became as general as the 
severe rules of etiquette and the limited number allowed to 
take the floor at once, could well jDermit. But the truth 
is — and you may print this in smaller type, as a secret, if 
you like — that flirting is quite as much the business of a 
Parisian ball, as dancing ; so that the rules did not press 
with undue severity. 

" I have said that the dancing began at about eleven. 
It was about one when the company moved from the 



192 PARIS IJSr '67. 

grand salon to the great dining-hall, ushered with the 
same ceremonies which had marked their entrauce. 

" Scarcely the ' company ' however — only a part of it ; 
not more than two or three hundred found place in that 
magnificent banqueting-hall of the Tuileries,with its reple- 
tion of frescoes, gilding, flowers, and waxen illuminations. 
After the guests were seated with the due order of prece- 
dence, at tables radiant with every variety of costly service, 
and loaded with (hot) soups, meats, and costly confections 
— the imperial party were announced and passed through 
in a body to the separate dining-hall provided for them 
at one side of the great hall — the guests rising and cheer- 
ing with much enthusiasm as they passed, whether in 
honor of royalty or at the near prospect of supper I con- 
fess that I did not stop to inquire, though I gave my little 
woman's cheer with the rest ! 

"This imperial dining-hall, at the left, was raised a 
little above the main hall, and full glimpses could be 
caught of it through the open doors, while the supper was 
in progress. It was splendidly decorated with flowers, 
fountains over which gauze prevented undue dampness 
from filling the atmosphere, the flags of the difierent 
nations etc. ; while it was worth somethiag to see, for 
once, what are the meanings of the phrases ' plate ' and' table 
service,' when they apply to gold, silver-gilt, gem-incrusta- 
tions and lavish splendor generally, devoted to the satis- 
fying of royal palates. But I said that monarchs danced 
like other mortals : so they ate and drank, as we observed 
them through the open doors — with no more of dignity 
than the occupants of the great hall, and I fancy without 
keener appetite; for there is nothing better calculated to 
sharpen the taste than dancing, fatigue, and supper at 
half-past one ! 

" My rambling story of the Grand Ball to the Czar — and 
I fear it has been a dry one — is nearly over. It only 



THE CZAR'S BALL. 193 

remains to say that the large number of other guests, who 
failed to reach the great hall, were otherwise accommo- 
dated ; that after supper we were ushered into another 
apartment, where ices, jellies, and the most delicate of 
cooling confections awaited us; that dancing was resumed 
on return from supper, and continued until half-past 
three — the royal party leaving somewhat earlier, perhaps 
at half-past two ; that again, on leaving, came the Master 
of Ceremonies, the accurate and yet not disagreeable 
formalities, the wonderful attendance, the lights, flowers, 
and music of entrance, the regulated crush of carriages 
without, even a few of the glaring and defiant faces 
staring into the carriages as we rolled away up the Rue 
Rivoli or through the Place des Pyramides. 

" There ! Strauss' wonderful music of that night has 
already ceased ; the flowers of the Tuileries have faded, 
the crowned heads have gone home ; the flirtations then 
begun have borne fruit or ended ; the enamel is off my lace, 
and I wear a robe with more than four inches of waist ! 
You have only a woman's relation of the aflair, and of the 
affair of the same character preceding ; but I have tried to 
satisfy a little of the natural curiosity of my country- 
women who did not chance to be present; and neither to 
you nor to them have I any apology to offer for having 
possibly failed in doing my very best." 
9 



XYIL 

THE WOKLD'S JEWELS IN THE BIG CASKET. 

The most sublime thing said at any or all of the ceremo- 
nies connected with the American Exhibition of 1853, was 
the utterance of Elihu Biirritt, at the great oratorical re- 
opening, in which he spoke of the beautiful building as 
being " worthy to furnish a manger-cradle to the divine 
infant. Labor," and all the triumphs of art surrounding, as 
" gems brought from far, to bind upon its baby-brow." 
And perhaps it is more to that utterance than any other, 
that I owe the feeling, in any great industrial exhibition, 
that I am standing amid something sacred, because so 
much of the best of the human heart and brain and hand 
has entered into the production of its various components 
— that these are, indeed, the royal gems and glories of a 
world. 

He who has visited the Great Exposition of 1867, and 
experienced no such feeling when looking down one of the 
broad circles and marking how labor has been immortal- 
ized in the very efforts made for its amelioration — has 
caught but a faint reflection of the lesson intended to be 
conveyed. To him who has learned the lesson, I think it 
is quite permissible that he may have indulged in another, 
on his own account — the thought how much is constantly 
wasted, of what might supply human comfort to individ- 
uals by the million, in the effort to supply a few hundreds, 
or at least a few thousands, with rare and unnecessary 



THE WORLD'S JEWELS. 195 

luxuries. The world is richer for every one of the whir- 
ring spindles and revolving wheels which make possible 
production without the racking of so many nerves and the 
consumption of so much valuable time ; it is the richer, 
too, for most of the solid products of labor, in wood, and 
iron, and brass, and leather, and stuffs, and mixed mate- 
rials, which render so much labor unnecessary because so 
much has been already done ; and the fund of wealth is 
certainly added to, the mind as well as the body needing 
to be supplied, by the efforts of art which enliven the brain 
and make the material world more beautiful — whatever 
may be the final verdict on those costly nothings destined 
to deck limb and add unnatural radiance to brow and hand. 
Of most of the articles in this long array, that may be 
said which cannot be uttered over the personality of quite 
all the men on earth, without a far-seeing deference to the 
creative will : " It is better that they exist "; and the pride 
of being part of a world capable of such productions has 
been no mean ingredient in the pleasure of gazing down 
the transverse galleries and around the great circles of the 
Exposition. 

Of course it will not be expected that in this connection 
any list can be made of even the most notable objects on 
exhibition, — or that even the most notable of the most 
notable can be indicated by a mere word. The intelligent 
man who had spent the whole summer within the building 
and park, moving about briskly and making notes con- 
tinually, might have done the latter, in the dry mode of a 
catalogue, but very little more. If a few observations 
find place, here, of what a single pair of eyes, not super- 
naturally observant, saw and noted within a few days — 
all possibility (and let us hope all expectation) will have 
been supplied. Desultory glimpses, grouped so far as con- 
venient, but having only one settled feature — that they 
altogether ignore the American contributions, they being 



196 PARIS IN" '67. 

entitled, in deference to American readers, to the justice 
of a separate paper. 

Naturally enough, an impractical man, who scarcely 
knows a lever from a connecting-rod, turns at once to ma- 
chinery (because it is one of his great wonders), — and a 
" peace " man of the most declared character, to warlike 
weapons, simply because he is not in the habit of handling 
them. 

Oddly enough, too, the two nations toward whom 
France is well known to have been looking most jealously 
— England and Prussia — have chosen to thrust into her 
face, in the present instance, nearly all the " big-guns " 
and improved warlike machinery of the collection. Prus- 
sia's improved fire-arms, the perfection of neatness and ap- 
parently of force, have attracted much attention in the 
main building ; and a cannon of hers, about the size of an 
ordinary Croton-main, has pointed toward the centre of 
the building and only needed loading to be dangerous to 
the whole affair. Her needle-guns and other weapons 
have correspondingly dazzled all eyes with the complete- 
ness of their finish and the suggestions of the use which 
a practically onilitary nation could make of them on 
occasion. England, meanwhile (principally in the great 
annexe), has shown Armstrongs, Whitworths and other 
iron monsters in profusion, with suggestive splintered tar- 
gets and hints of what has been accomplished and can be ac- 
complished again in case of necessity. Belgium, however, 
does not fall off from the old prestige of Liege, especially 
in the display of somewhat heavy but eftective-looking 
fire-arms and army-cutlery ; and France, as if daring all 
that other countries can send her, in peace as in war, fills 
up every atom of available space with such monstrosities 
in founding, and such an infinite variety of death-dealing 
implements, facile and keen-looking as the German are 
clumsy, (the Chassepot rifle not forgotten), that the day of 



THE WORLD'S JEWELS. I97 

"beating spears into pruning-hooks" does not seem ap- 
preciably near. The artilleric display has lain principally 
between the three nations already mentioned; though 
Turkey has matched either, if not over-matched all, in the 
display of guns, pistols, sabres, and other warlike cutlery, 
somewhat oriental-looking, but evidently effective, even if 
not many of them have the glitter of Damascus. 

It is in machinery and machines, probably, that the 
most wonderful of all the collections has been accomplished. 
As might be expected, France, having the advantage of 
proximity, leads in this heavy detail, with mighty engines 
supplying motive-power to the building, with locomotives 
and railway-novelties of interest, with cotton and silk 
machines, opening the whole arcana of manufacture to the 
looker-on, and displaying her wealth of resources in a most 
profitable manner. But she has been closely followed by 
England, sending over many of the best heavy works of 
the great manufactories at London, Birmingham, Leeds, 
&c., and fully rivaling France in machinery devoted to 
cloth manufactures and the preparation of materials. In 
heavy and railway machineries, Belgium excels England, 
and in some respects even France — her locomotives and 
traction-engines being ponderously-powerful-looking, her 
railway-carriages models of taste and beauty (the Euro- 
pean compartment system taken as the standard), and no 
mean rivalry established in machines specially devoted 
to the preparation of materials and the manufacture of 
silks, cottons and woolens. Austria has some excellent 
traction-engines, and promising railway-novelties; Bavaria, 
Baden and Switzerland, all make creditable railway die- 
plays; and Austria, Prussia and Sweden principally divide 
the credit (England being literally " nowhere," and France 
scarcely clutching for the palm) of exhibiting sewing-ma- 
chines that look like more-or-less successful operation, all 
modeled, of course, on thefts from well-known American 



198 PARIS IN '67. 

patents, and all founded on one of the two cardinal Ameri- 
can principles. In one regard, which may be entirely a 
matter of local advantage, and may depend not a little on 
accorded or withheld permission, France has all the 
while been at an immeasurable distance ahead of competi- 
tion — her smaller manufacturing machinery put and kept 
in operation, and visitors enjoying the privilege, profitable 
enough to the exhibitor, as well as instructive to the 
looker-on, of seeing hats, coats, shoes, combs, artificial 
flowers^ buttons, ayid the inevitable chocolate, manufac- 
tured from the raw material ; while a fully-appointed 
working printing-press has supplied another of the peeps 
behind the curtain of labor, not quite so rare in industrial 
exhibitions. In some of the buildings in the Park, by the 
way, the orientals have been allowed to infringe the 
French monopoly, and greasy Egyptians have woven 
mats, made silver finger-rings from wire, and otherwise 
instructed eyes and depleted pockets. 

In jewelry and fine ornamental work (to make a leap 
Avhich suggests the packing of a carpet-bag by first putting 
in the boots, and then the watches) France leads, again 
and pronouncedly — one whole chamber (well-policed, " you 
bet!" as "Tommy" would say) hung in green (the best 
color for jewel-relief), and devoted to such a display of 
diamond, pearl, and o^her costly bijouterie, as the Count of 
Monte Cristo might have gazed upon in despair — such as 
has kept the "sea of tempestuous petticoats" (to use a 
favorite expression of the season) dashing dangerously 
around it — every device of flower, or insect, or reptile, 
ever shaped in gems, here so modeled and incrusted, of 
the rarest and costliest, with the serpents' eyes of fire, 
rubies and emeralds, the drop of dew on an enameled rose- 
leaf a diamond, and the sprays of delicate flowers, pearls 
and opals and sapphires diamond-blended, that it has 
seemed almost impossible to avoid pausing to speculate 



THE WORLD'S JEWELS. 199 

how much the material universe would have cost in francs, 
dollars, or pounds-sterling, had the Great Architect formed 
his world of insect life and floral beauty in the same lavish 
manner ! France certainly exhausts the graceful in shape, 
and the skilful in manipulation, as she "tops the infinite 
of" cost; though England presses her hard, in some of 
the collections of the great London jewelers, in one of 
which (I forget the name, though I think it was Jewish) 
I saw diamond sprays of such luxuriousness that they 
seemed to radiate the atmosphere of Hyde Park in the 
season, or the Queen's Drawing Room ; while in one jewel 
a single yellow diamond, of immense size, was surrounded 
by others, so set as to quiver and shimmer continually, with 
a most dazzling effect ; and some of the English peeresses 
(the Countess Dudley among others) did what no 
French lady had thought of doing, and sent over her 
ancestral diamonds in a body, to keep up the national 
reputation! As to the other continental nations — Berlin 
and Vienna .have only been behind London and Paris in 
the extent of their jewelry contributions ; though the truth 
must be told that the Prussians and Austrians both lack 
the art of setting to j^erfection, however rare the gems at 
their disposal, and that the Austrians, at least, seem more 
at home in the extensive collection of *' Brummagem," or 
mock jewels, which have blinded uninstructed eyes nearly 
as much as the costly realities. Italy, meanwhile, has not 
forgotten Benvenuto Cellini, or the Etruscans, as evidenced 
by some of her works in gold, silver, and precious stones. 
Russia has astonished those who only thought of her as a 
land of snows, furs, and the knout, by showing some exquisite 
productions in the precious metals, and some novelties in 
gem-incrusted furniture, from her own semi-precious stones, 
defying competition in their way ; and sleepy old Holland, 
seldom too much admired of the fair sex, has carried them 
all captive by establishing a diamond-cutting laboratory in 



200 ' PARIS /lY '67. 

an annexe^ showing the whole process of shaping the gem 
on wheels through the friction of its own powder, and 
making more feminine mouths water, and more masculine 
pockets empty in anticipation, than almost any of the more 
pretentious nations. 

From jewels to statuary, bronzes and carvings, is not 
quite so extended a leap. In marble statuary, as might 
have been expected, Italy has stood unrivaled and unap- 
proachable, the dilFerent sections of the Italian depart- 
ment having been literally heart-aching (to the poor and 
covetous), with the number and excellence of products of 
the chisel. This paper has no mission to particularize, 
else might it be entirely filled with the naming of some of 
my own particular heart-aches that have not even the 
distant prospect of a cure. France has supplied many fine 
rival works in marble, and shamed competition by the 
wealth of her display of photo-sculpture (moulding in clay 
by a new process, about which Americans will be better 
instructed by and by), and she has furnished many noble 
specimens of the colossal in art, adorning the grounds 
and entrances, closely followed, and in some instances, 
excelled, by Belgium, to which the collection has owed 
some of the most striking of its ultra-colossal figures. 
Much of the Russian cutting in poplar-wood (for house 
decoration) can scarcely be named as carving, any more 
than as sculpture, though it has a certain rude and odd 
charm, undeniable when its use is considered ; and that 
the great Northern Bear can work in other materials is 
evident in one chimney-piece of contrasted native marbles, 
excelling all others in its line and commanding universal 
admiration. Switzerland and Central Germany, possessors 
at once of the woods especially appropriate for carving, 
and of the contented, plodding, low-paid people requisite 
for the work — excel the world in their carvings in walnut 
and oak, from the colossal to the liliputian — from great 



THE WORLD'S JEWELS. 201 

bears and stalwart warriors, to wondrous match-boxes and 
distracting paper-folders — that branch of art rapidly rising, 
now, to recognition among the most creditable, rare and 
costly. In bronzes the great German kingdoms display 
very excellent specimens ; but there is not even a com- 
parison to be made between them, or the works in the 
same material from any other country, and the matchless 
beauties and delicacies of the French department, in which 
richness of material answers to chastity of design, and 
the art of working in bronze, at its present height of per- 
fection, seems literally to have reached its apotheosis. 
Pausing in this department and falling in love, continually, 
with some new object of grace and beauty — the most 
graceful thing in nature, the form of woman, continually 
renewed in the richest of material — it has been easier, I 
think, than ever before, to understand how much the divine 
ordinance debarred, when it commanded : " Thou shalt 
not worship any graven image." 

Swiss Geneva and Locle, English Birmingham and 
Liverpool, German Nuremberg, Prussian Berlin, and Aus- 
trian Vienna and Prague, all run riot, of course, in a mad 
competition of watches, the costliest to the cheapest, dia- 
mond-studded and enameled, to the plainest silver — and 
the sizes ranging from a corn-kernel to a tea-plate, but 
Switzerland decidedly wearing the honors ; while Switzer- 
land and Germany combine to present so many clocks, 
equally elegant and cheap, in carved woods, and the com- 
moner metals, as to join hands with the French costly 
beauties in bronze, virtually annihilate the once-popular 
Yankee structure at a touch, and squeeze the traditional 
Yankee clock-maker out of existence. 

There would seem to have been a fair understanding of 

the inherent indolence of mankind, among contributors to 

the Exposition, for no small expenditure of wealth and 

talent has been employed upon the costliest means of cou- 
9* 



202 FA BIS Iir '67. 

veyance — the private carriage. In this department, again, 
France has asserted her pre-eminence, not strnngely, the 
cost of transporting such bulky articles being considered ; 
but with a claim to much credit for the unimpeachable 
taste in shape characterizing most of the carriages, and for 
the soberness of rich upholstery. England has followed, 
with vehicles highly creditable, but somewhat too pon- 
derous for the American eye ; and Belgium, Prussia and 
Austria have all played well their part in this regard ; 
while from far-away Russia have come so many and such 
odd conveyances that the modes of transit of the Czar and 
his subjects remain no longer a mystery. Perhaps in no 
detail of the whole exhibition has the progress of human 
luxury been more apparent than in the general tendency 
to lay additional stress uj^on the indolent substitute for 
healthier equestrianism. 

Close to the carriage naturally come the harness and 
the world-used material of which it is made — leather. Of 
harness, England, France, Belgium, Prussia, Austria, 
Kussia and Holland, have all supplied most creditable col- 
lections, costly luxury being again apparent in the increas- 
ing use of plate and patent-leather ; and a gratifying 
progress evident, with all these nations, in the eschewing 
of antique weight and clumsiness, and the adoption of 
recent inventions for giving additional freedom to the 
horse. In saddlery, Spain may be said to lead the van, in 
excellence nearly as much as in show ; while Turkey sup- 
plies much that is orientally odd though valuable, and 
France, England and all the leading continental nations 
display taste and progress in tliis too-much-neglected 
branch of manufacture. As might be supposed, the three 
great rivals, Russia, Spain and Turkey, dwarf all oppo- 
sition in the fineness and infinite variety of the far-famed 
" Russia-leather," fragrant as the cedar and sandal-wood 
used in iis preparation — the " Spanish-leather," known 



THE WORLD'S JEWELS. 203 

wherever the name of Cordova has reached — and the 
" Turkish morocco," as inseparably connected with the 
chaussure of beauty. France, Belgium, and the German 
States, have made splendid shows in patent-leather, and 
England supplies some of the heavier fabrics in rare per- 
fection. And while speaking of leather and its products, 
it may be well to say, here, that though the French and 
German collections of shoes are almost endless, and run- 
ning through every variety of cost and excellence, yet 
from some of the London manufacturers there have been 
exhibited, made exclusively (they say) by native workmen, 
specimens of boot and shoe manufacture very materially 
excelling, both in shape and working detail, the finest of 
Paris, Berlin, or Vienna. Johnny Crapaud is in this 
instance fairly beaten on his own ground, and in a branch 
of manufacture in which he has before had but one rival — 
the Austrian. 

A new language, or at least a fresh supply of adjectives, 
would be needed to speak of the infinite variety and splen- 
dor of the cloths, silks, velvets, worsted stuffs, and other 
dress material for the two sexes, with which the cases of 
all the leading nations have been studded. Alternately it 
has seemed to me, in woolen fabrics, that the French, the 
Enghsh and the German looms had the predominance ; 
but one fact was patent at last — that in the soft and luxu- 
rious folds of the finer fabrics of either, judgment could 
be nearly as effectually smothered as j^hysical life. To 
some of those soft, fleecy, white and light-colored cloths, 
destined to wrap the dainty forms of the fairer sex, I 
think that I could easily have paid adoration and com- 
menced a new worship ; while I could certainly have dons 
so to the seas of silks and velvets of Lyons, Spitalfields and 
Verona. I might have found something more enduring, 
at the same time, in the soberer and heavier German 
fiibrics — Prussia, Austria, Belgium and the German 



204 PARIS IJSr '67. 

States "being all most creditably represented ; and had I 
been disposed to be showily oriental, in what tawdry mag- 
nificence of cloth-of-gold-and-silver, and fine woolens 
showing the dyes once employed in the looms of Tyre, 
could I not have wrapped myself from the collections of 
Spain (Moorish), Turkey, Tunis and Morocco ? And had 
I had daintier shoulders than my own to ornament, in what 
seas of shawls might I not have drowned myself and the 
" beloved object," many of the French, and some of the 
English and German, approaching very closely to the 
boasted glories of the priceless Indian and Persian fabrics 
so proudly challenging competition ? And had I desired 
laces — have not the proudest triumphs of the Flemings, 
fortunes in a cap-full, been setting female hearts aching ? 
And have not the French artists followed closely, and 
sometimes matched their exemplars ? And have there not 
been lace productions from England and Ireland, so rich 
and costly that, in the event of a " non-intercourse " with 
all the continent. Her Grace the Duchess would not be 
seriously puzzled for a cobweb to envelop her plump 
shoulders ? 

But this resume is growing, after aU, to something like 
a catalogue of the whole exhibition : it must have an end 
at once, diflicult as it may be to break away from glories 
in manufacture more wonderful even to this age than were 
the oriental marvels of Prester John to his. How grate- 
ful would be the task, to note the figures in the peculiar 
dresses of their localities, supplied by France, by Russia, 
by Sweden and Norway; to smack imaginary lips over 
the wines of uncounted names and varieties, in which 
France has taken the lead (joined with Algeria), with 
Spain, Portugal and Italy following, and the German 
States far in arrear ; to delve into the wonderful weaUh 
of mineral productions of Prussia, Spain, Austria, France, 
Italy, Tm-key and England ; to feel doubly assured that 



TEE WORLD'S JEWELS. 205 

the world has no near starvation before it, in the midst of 
the crowded cereals of France (again with Algeria), Hol- 
land, Belgium, Prussia, Austria, Spain, Portugal, Greece, 
Sweden, Russia, Italy, Turkey, Brazil, England and the 
British possessions in the West and the East ; to make 
comparison between the farm-implements of all the leading 
nations named (many of them down at the He de Billan- 
court, in the middle of the Seine, and hopelessly out of 
ordinary view) ; to riot (not rudely) among the wilderness 
of porcelain, from Sevres in France to Prague in Bohemia 
and Uttoxeter in England and Cracow in Poland ; to build 
ships from those models of the Austrian s, the French and 
the Norwegians ; to hear all the horns blow, all the fiddles 
twang and all the eight-hundred organs and pianos bang 
and moan ; to bathe in the atmosphere of French flowers 
and imitations — to prolong, so far as possible, the glamour 
of a collection of art, industry, usefulness, extravagance 
and instruction, such as the world has never before known 
and may roll through many cycles before it duplicates the 
opportunity. 

But here an end, except as to one detail purposely 
avoided up to this moment. — Pictures. Had the Exposi- 
tion of '07 performed no other office for the world than 
educating taste in this single regard, it would still have 
deserved well of humanity. For within that inner circle 
of the great building, and in some of the annexes specially 
devoted to the same purpose, have been gathered better 
evidences of the world's progress in the painter's art, 
more beauties and fewer deformities, than ever before 
covered the same stupendous extent of wall-surface. The 
Vatican, the Louvre, Versailles, the galleries of Florence 
and Dresden and London may be each wonderful in their 
way ; but they do not inclose the race in a circle, as this 
gathering has done, and that feature of "seeing eye to 
eye " has been the great necessity. 



206 PARIS IN '67. 

Wonderful walks, to even the moderately-instructed in 
art, have been those (leg-wearying enough as to distance) 
through the almost endless circle still clasped closest 
within the building as if most valuable of all. It has been 
no ordinary privilege to look up in succession ta walls 
bearing pieces presented as worthy the stake of reputation, 
by such artists as French Rosa Bonheur (" Scottish Raz- 
zia," "Stags," &c.); Meissonier ("Expectation," "The 
Emperor at Solferino," " Campaign of France," " Cavaliers 
Drinking," &c.); Winterhalter (originals of the famous 
"Napoleon III" and "Eugenie"); Cabanel ("Birth of 
Yenus," " Nymph and Fawn," &c.) ; Gerome (" The 
Gladiators," " Duel after the Masquerade," " Phryue be- 
fore the Tribunal," "Death of Caesar," &c.) ; Rousseau 
("Pass of Apremont," "Autumn," "Evening after the 
Rain," &c.) ; Bougereau ; Corot (" Witches in Macbeth," 
" Ruins of Pierrefonds," &c.) ; Lambinet (" Banks of the 
Ivette ") ; D'Aubigny (" Valley " and "Village of Opteroz," 
"Banks of the Oise," &c.) ; Huet ("Equinoctial Tide at 
Honfleur," " Groves of Normandy," " Wood of La Haye," 
&c.) ; Merle ; Courbet ; Comte-Calix (" The Old Friend ") ; 
"Yvon ("Taking of the Malakoff" — Versailles Gallery, and 
" Convoy of Wounded ") ; Plassan ; and August Bonheur 
(" Souvenirs " of "" the Pyrenees" and " Auvergne ") : by 
German Knaus ("Shoemaker's Wife," "Peasant Girl," 
"Boy Shoemakers," &c.) ; Baron Leys ("Lancelot von 
Ursel," "Archduke Charles," "Publication of Edict in 
Antwerp," " Conference in the Reformation," &c. — princi- 
pally from his great frescoes at Antwerp) ; Andreas and 
Oswald Achenbach ("Amsterdam" and "Port of Ostend " 
and " Rocca de Papa ") ; Kaulbach (colossal picture of 
the " Reformation," and Portraits) ; Piioty (" Death of 
Caesar," "Before Weissenberg," "Godfrey de Bouillon," 
&c.) ; Sigismund L'Allemand ; Matejiko ("jDiet of War- 
saw ") ; Bauquiet ; Tschaggeny ; Stevens and Willems 



TEE WORLD'S JEWELS. 207 

(" Visit of Marie de Medicis to Rubens," " The Armourer," 
" The Adieux," &c.) : by Italian Induno (" Letter from the 
Camp") ; Hayez (" Massacre of St, Bartholomew") ; Gastaldi 
(" Defense of Toi-tona ") ; the Gambas (" Victor Amadeus 
succoring Carmagnola," and "Beach at Cheveningen") : by 
Dutch Von Schendel (" Christmas Night," " Holy Fam- 
ily," "Dutch Market at Night," "Angel Gabriel and 
Virgin," &c.) ; Meyer (" Coast of France," " Coast of 
England," &c.) ; and Haas (" Plains in Holland," " Before 
the Storm," &c.) : by Sjymiish Alvarez (" Indulgences") ; 
Gisbert (" Landing of the Pilgrims " — American, " Meet- 
ing of Francis L and Eleanor of Austria," Portraits, Ssc.) ; 
and Ruiperez {genre pieces) : by Swedish Hoeckert (" Fire 
in the Palace of Stockholm ") ; and Jernberg (" Bear at 
the Fair," " Westphalian Costumes," &c.) : by Russiaii 
Bogoliouboff (" Naval Combat," " Bombardment of Petro- 
paulowsky," &c.) ; Clodt (Landscapes) ; and Peroff (" Vil- 
lage Funeral" and "First Uniform") : and by English 
Faed ("His Only Pair"-); Frith ("Claude Duval"— not 
equal to either his " Derby Day " or " Railway Station ") ; 
Landseer (" Shrew Tamed ") ; Calderon (" Her Most No- 
ble, High and Puissant Grace") ; Hunt ("Afterglow in 
Egypt") Ansdell ("Treading out the Corn"); Millais 
(" Eve of St. Agnes," and " Romans Leaving Britain ") ; 
Davis (" Sprmg-Time in the Pas de Calais ") ; O'Neill 
(" Eastward Ho ! ") ; and Sant (" The First Sense of Sor- 
row"). 

It has been no slight privilege, I repeat, to look up to 
walls covered with these and other works by such painters 
as those who have been thus hurriedly selected from the 
great artistic crowd — most of them living, active, working 
artists, not yet past their usefulness or entirely sacrificed 
on the altar of " dead names." Though the bulk of a 
feast does not always add to the enjoyment of it, it may 
be well to know, additionally, that of paintings and draw- 



208 PARIS IN '67. 

ings the French array numbers 625 ; that of Holland 169 ; 
that of Belgium 180 ; that of Prussia 118 ; that of Bavaria 
254 ; that of Austria 140 ; that of Switzerland 167 ; that 
of Spain 42 ; that of Sweden and Norway 104 ; that of 
Russia 74 ; that of Italy 93 ; that of Egypt 26 ; that of the 
United States (hereafter to be noticed) 80 ; and that of 
Great Britain 213 ; besides those of minor states and 
the Orient — the whole number of pictures, exclusive of 
working-drawings, plans and photography, reaching the 
overwhelming figure of nearly twenty-five hundred — prob- 
ably three-fourths in oil, and the representation of contem- 
porary art equally extensive and satisfactory, in spite of all 
regretted absences and deficiencies. 

With this paper, general notice of the Great Exposition 
finds its conclusion — a conclusion, it is to be feared, more 
regretted by the writer than his readers. Not even the 
brilliant Distribution des Iteco')npenses, at the Palais d'ln- 
dustrie on the first of July, can find place in the hastiest 
description, owing to a default for which the present writer 
is certainly not responsible. " Tommy " was to furnish 
me an account of that event, too : I do not know that I can 
inflict a severer punishment on the young man, if he has 
any feeling whatever, than hy publishing to the eyes of the 
thousands who know or suspect his identity, precisely 
what he forwarded, under date 2d July, in the place of the 
expected " account." Here follows the curiosity, ver- 
batim et literatim : — 

" How are you, Gov.! Wasn't I to send you a thingamy 
about Nappy and the other nobs distributing the prizes at 
the Palace of Industry where nobody never works, oh no, 
never no more ? Don't answer, for I know that I was, 
now that I think of it. Sorry, old boy, but can't do it, you 
know — nohow ! Distribution took place yesterday, but 
Count Bob and I had a little affaire last night — finished 
up ' (no, not finished up, but began to finish up) at the 



TEE WORLD'S JEWELS, 209 

Moulin Rouge ; and consequence is — things are thick this 
morning, about 'this distracted globe ' — you bet ! Haven't 
the slightest idea what happened, except that the house 
was jammed fuller of people than it always is of pictures 
and other fineries — that everybody was there (except you 
and — I won't mention the other name, for it is ' calico ') — 
that old Nappy handed around crosses and medals (not 
himself, though — bless your innocence, no !) until I thought 
that they were business-cards and he was just going to set 
up in haberdashery — that all the people who got crosses 
and medals, and all their women, looked jolly, and all the 
others glummer than Butter Hill in a thunder-storm — that 
there was any quantity of show, fuss-and-feathers, brass 
band and noise. I didn't get any Cross of the Legion, 
neither did you^ though I don't know why. No use of 
being cross about it, though ; so let's don't ! As for 
medals — you know that I ^lever meddle about anything, 
so how could I have one of them ? High old times, 
though — thing of enlarged dimensions, altogether — hope 
that His Imperial Majesty felt better when he had got all 
those things off his mind and out of his pockets ! There 
— that is all that you are likely to get, and I hope you like 
it. Don't believe that it is much of a ' description,' but 
who cares for description ? Hang descriptions ! ' Hang ' 
was not the word that I wrote first, but you will see that 
I have crossed out the other, because the respectability of 
this establishment must be preserved ! Yive la bagatelle ! 
— and the old gentleman with the hoofs, horns and tail 
catch the hindmost ! If you want anything more about 
the Distribution — here, I throw you in one of Count Bob's 
extra cards of admission, that I hooked out of his pocket 
last night : publish that P 

A copy of the card so impudently forwarded, is sub- 
joined, as one more of those " bricks from the Tower of 



210 



PARIS IN '67. 



Babel," calculated to show the size and style of the struc- 
ture : — 



Emperor's Eagle, 
quartered on ermine ; 
supported by crossed 
scepters and crowned. 



Exposition • Universelle- de- 186 Y * a • Faris ' 



Commission • Impcriale 



Ceremonie 
de la 



Distribution • des • Recompenses 
Au Palais de V Industrie. 

Mons. le Comte Robert de 

Stalle No. 286, Tribune K R. 
Entree par le Grand Fortail, Forte III. 

En uniforme ou enfracet cravate blanche. 
Cette carte est personneUe, elle doit Hre conservee ponr 

justifier du droit c£ la place occupee. 
Les Fortes seront ouvertes a midi et rigoureusement 
fermees a 1 Tieure I- 



It only remains to fulfill a national duty, in alluding 
briefly to the articles winning or failing of honor in the 
United States department — and then to pass to the promised 
" side-shows of Paris," and to a few of the " excursions " 
connected with the Exposition summer. 



XYin. 

AMERICA'S SHARE m THE DIVIDED HONORS 

The fact that America (the United States absolutely 
claiming and filling the name) has won more solid honors 
per cent, in the Great Exposition, than any other country 
on the globe — this fact is almost too well known to need 
assertion. What it might have won, meanwhile, had not 
certain adverse influences prevented any adequate display 
of the resources of a country covering so wide an extent 
of both latitude and longitude, and notoriously taking part 
in nearly every species of labor, erection and manufacture 
known to the civilized world — this would be an idle spec- 
ulation, even if an interesting one. 

Several causes combined to make the American display 
limited in extent, late in arrival, and second-rate in oppor- 
tunity. The first of these was to be found in the tardi- 
ness and niggardliness of Congress, which omitted to con- 
sider the question of appropriation for goods-transit to 
and personal attendance at the Exposition, when it should 
have been considered, haggled over names and details in 
such a manner as to deprive the application of all dignity 
and create the impression that some enormous favor was 
to be accorded instead of a great adv^ertising opportunity 
embraced — and finally, at the thirteenth hour (not having 
yet fully "reconstructed" the divided nation), devoted to 
this great service a sum which would have been disgrace- 
fully mean for an exploring expedition to the head-waters 



212 PARIS IN 'er. 

of Seconnet River, besides so managing as to secure the 
appointment to the (nominally) paid Commissionerships, 
of men of wealth to whom the bagatelle was no object, 
leaving in the unpaid ones younger, more active and gen- 
erally more impecunious men, to whom even the trifle 
would have been somewhat welcome in dividing the bur- 
then. 

Such was, too notoriously, the action of a national body 
which used at least to make some pretence of encouraging 
national industry, and w^hich can yet do so when some sec- 
tional interest is to be fostered by a tariff little else than 
prohibitory. The President, agreeing with the represent- 
ative bodies in nothing else, agreed with it in shilly-shal- 
lying, delays, and failing to rise to the level of the occasion, 
and ended by vigorously selecting the wrong persons for 
most of the positions, and only hitting upon the fit and 
proper appointees (as he did in some well-known instances) 
through unfortunate accident. 

The country, too, was singularly ill-prepared, at the 
decisive moment, for considering the great question of 
advertising itself abroad, or for acting upon that consid- 
eration when it had been held. Just emerging from the 
most terrible war in all history, one-third of its territory 
lay more or less in ruin and desolation, while unpaid 
accounts crippled the ability of thousands usually abund- 
ant in means and liberal in policy ; at the same moment 
that the before-named and other incidental causes pre- 
vented there being on hand many of those tastefully- 
prepared articles peculiarly appropriate for sending abroad, 
or the rapid manufacture of them when the necessity was 
recognized. Add to all this, the gold premium and rate 
of exchange bringing every dollar spent by America or 
Americans in Europe, to nearly one-and-a-half dollars in 
cost at home — the distance and cost of transportation, 
under the most favorable circumstances — the still-lingering 



AMEEICA'S SHARE. 213 

ill-feeling against the exhibitionary nation, well understood 
to have been among the most anxious for our dismember 
ment — the fears for the peace of Europe, rendering a shade 
doubtful the early return of what might be sent over at 
so much cost and trouble, — and some intelligent idea may 
be formed of the obstacles lying in the way of a repre- 
sentation of American products at Paris, worthy of the 
land and people. 

That signal failure has not been the result, may be set 
down principally to the credit of most American inven- 
tions being of that practical order which compels recog- 
nition under every disadvantage — to the energy of a few 
moved by public spirit, and a few more by that rational 
commercial spirit which recognizes great opportunities — 
and to a combination of the sacred and profane adages : 
" The last shall be first," and " A fool for luck ! " America 
has contributed enough to the great gathering, to make 
Americans proud of her, and yet only enough to induce 
continual regrets, such as one feels at an assembly where 
Jane, Susan and Maria are splendidly companionable, but 
the thought will come up : " Oh, if Matilda were only 
here !" To be pleased, and say : " What has America not 
done ! " has only sharpened the thought : " What might 
America not have done !" — to see what American invent' 
ors and manufacturers have exhibited, has been followed 
by continual reminders of absence, and the half-muttered 

exclamation : " Why the deuce did not , and , 

and , who might each have made such displays in their 

line, and who had time enough and wealth enough to 
devote to aiding the national reputation and advertising 
themselves, come here and double or triple all this, like- 
good fellows !" Something more of this in due time, 
when the articles actually on exhibition shall have been 
noticed and "honors counted." 

It may be well to record, as a matter of historical recol- 



214: PARIS IN '67. 

lection, the names of the originally-appointed United 
States Commissioners (paid and unpaid), the General 
Agent, the State Commissioners (rather fifth-wheel-to-a- 
coach-y, as they were most of them equally unnecessary 
and unrecognized), and a few prominent citizens, most of 
them not abroad at all, who acted on the Advisory Com- 
mittees with reference to admissions of articles. 

Com^nissioner General — N. M. Beckwith, Paris. 

General American Agent. — J. C. Derby, United States 
Dispatch Agent, New York. 

Ten Paid Commissioners. — Samuel B, Ruggles, !N"ew 
York ; James H. Bowen, Chicago, Illinois ; H. F. Q. 
D'Aligny, Houghton, Michigan ; William Slade, Ohio ; 
John P. Kennedy, Baltimore, Maryland; J. Lawrence 
Smith, Louisville, Ky.; Prof. J. P. Lesley, Philadelphia; 
F. A. P. Barnard (President Columbia College), New 
York ; Abram S. Hewitt, New York ; Paran Stevens, New 
York. 

Unpaid Commissioners. — Alexander T. Stewart, New 
York ; Jacob R, Freese, Trenton, New Jersey ; Charles B. 
Norton, New York ; William J. Valentine, London ; 
Thomas W. Evans, M. D., Paris ; William A. Adams, 
Cincinnati, Ohio; Frank Leslie. New Yor k: James 
Archer, St. Louis, Mo. ; Enoch R. Mudge, Boston ; 
William A. Budd, New York; Charles B. Seymour, New 
York ; Francis Mcllvaine, Philadelphia ; O. F. Winchester, 
New Haven, Conn. ; Charles R. Goodwin, Paris ; D. M. 
Leatherman, Tennessee ; Cornelius K. Garrison, New 
York; Robert Birney, New York; Lorenzo D. McSweat, 
Portland, Maine ; J. Le Conte, Philadelphia. 

State Com7nissionei's. — Maine, C. A. Shaw ; Connecti- 
cut, P. T. Barnum ; New York, A. Barbey ; Pennsylvania, 
T. O'Connor ; Illinois, J. P. Reynolds ; Indiana, J. A. 
Wilstach; Iowa, J. M. Shaffer; Missouri, J. L. Butler; 
Louisana, Edwin Gottheil ; West Virginia, J. H. Diss De- 



AMERICA' S SHARE. 21*5 

bar; Alabama, Henry Haines; Massachusetts, J. M. 
Usher; California, W. P. Blake; Georgia, Charlton 
Way. 

A.dvisory Committeemen (on different groups, and with 
others). — William J. Hoppin, Prof. John W. Draper, S. 
B. Mills, Robert L. Stuart, Shepherd Gandy, J. F. 
Kensett, John Taylor Johnson, Marshall O. Roberts, R. 
M. Olyphant, Charles P. Daly, Jonathan Sturges, R. M. 
Knoedler, W. B. Duncan, Marcus Spring, Henry W. 
Derby, Genl. John A. Dix, Cyrus Butler, R. M. Hoe, R. 
P. Parrott, W. T, Blodgett, A. M. Cozzens. 

It need scarcely be said that there were too many Com- 
missioners in proportion to the number of articles 
forwarded (" Tommy" said that when the goods and the 
Commissioners arrived they reminded him of the " Foreign 
Legion," recruiting at Staten Island at the commence- 
ment of the rebellion, which had twenty-seven officers and 
one private, until they killed the latter by attempting to 
form him into a " hollow square !") And there is not much 
more occasion of remarking that some of them, with the 
loudest names, were a combination of lay-iigure and 
death's-head, doing no good whatever and acting rather 
as hindrances, while upon other and less pretentious 
shoulders devolved the work necessary to bring order out 
of chaos and make a great national collection out of 
a shamefully diminutive one. General Commissioner 
Beckwith was the best abused American living, at one 
time (always excepting James Buchanan and Andrew 
Johnson), and Agent Derby received his share of the 
anathemas ; but it is just jDOSsible that opinions have ma- 
terially changed in both regards. At all events it was 
found, when all had been arranged, that something rather 
creditable than the reverse had been blundered into if not 
exactly planned ; and, so much discovered, it only remained 
that the proper amount of special visits should be paid by 



216 PARIS IN '67. 

Americans to the American department and its appen- 
dages — the prizes duly fought for, aj^propriated aud 
bragged over. A miserable nation it would have been, 
indeed, that did less than the latter ; for 

" Lives there a man with soul so dead 
He never to himself hath said," 

"when imbibing at the American Bar, 

"This [whisky] is [a part of] my own, my native landl" 

And what was the use of sending over our pianos, if they 
did not bang and pound some additional respect for us 
into the ears and consciences of Europe? — what of our 
soda-fountains, if their contents did not go " to the head," 
to oar advantage, with all participants? — what of our 
mowing-machines, if they did not sweep away all oppo- 
nents as a Hussey or a McCormick levels standing grain ? 
— or of our locomotives if they did not become Cars of 
Juggernaut to crush the requisite quantity of victims in 
their onward progress ? 

Perhaps the American Fourth of July in Paris (as that 
of 1867 is very likely to be remembered) could more 
properly have been spoken of in connection with the 
" eagle's brood " than thus late ; but it has something to do 
with our " honors," so let the brief word fall into its acci- 
dental place. 

Who, of non-resident Americans present in Paris on that 
Independence Day, I wonder, will forget how they listened 
at early morning, to hear the sunrise cannon, the bells and 
the detonation of juvenile powder — and missing them, 
how they strained their mental ears to think that they 
could catch some echo from the jubilant cannon and bells 
and boyish squibs of home? Who will not remember the 
taking off of hats, that day, to the Old Flag that floated 
over the American annexe — the gathering around the 
home-made engines and reapers and sewing-machines and 



AMEBIC A' S SHARE. 217 

street-cars, and especially by that old ambulance grimy 
and broken with the long campaigns of McClellan and 
Grant and Sherman and bearing the names of so many sadly 
glofious fields, — the hands that clasped, the eyes that 
moistened, the tendernesses of home and the dear home-land 
that seemed that day to breathe in every breath and spring 
up beneath every footstep ? Who will not remember the - 
sorrow which overspread all at the announcement, that day, 
of the death of Maximilian, which threw the French court 
into mourning, made fetes taboo and prevented the atten- 
dance of General Dix and the other officials of our lega- 
tion, at the Grand Hotel Dinner, — but how Fetridge of 
the guide-books, and Fletcher Harper of books of all kinds, 
and Ruggles of the Financial Congress, and Dan Mason, 
and a dozen or two of others equally patriotic, toiled 
sturdily to make the occasion still a memorable one, 
in spite of the F 's who would not join such a gather- 
ing because it failed to be copperhead enough, not to say 
rebel enough, — and the G — — 's who wouldn't be caught 
— not they ! — in going to a public dinner in other array than 
a dress coat ! Who (of the lucky three or four hundred) 
will not remember how pleasant it was, that night, to see 
home-faces (and especially the fair women of home) around 
the tables in that regal Saloon of the Zodiac — to hear the 
dear old home-speech as a rule and not an exception, even 
if the waiters were stupidly non-English-speaking and we 
found the constant necessity of shifting suddenly from : 
*' Oh yes, Walter is all right — I saw him on Broadway only 
the day before I left ; but I say — isn't his sister Isabella a 
beauty !" to orders for ^'-jyetites caisses de foies gras Peri- 
gueux'' and *' cotelettes de pre- sale mix petits-pots''' 2kX\di''' hari- 
cots verts a la Fran^aisey How like many of the hum- 
drum things of home it was, to see well-meaning,mer- 
cantile old James Milliken presiding, half the time 
vigorously calling out the wrong people, and all the 
10 



218 PARIS Iir '67. 

time prefacing the call with some remark that put the 
rising speaker to the blush. How painful it was to see the 
length to which party could go in murdering nationality — 
guests, calling themselves Americans, refusing to riie or 
drink the toast to " The President of the United States !" 
because, forsooth, a man whom they personally disliked 
happened to fill the Presidential chair ! How some of the 
severely respectable among the speakers managed to turn 
the festivity into solemnity, for the moment, with words 
of the very highest value ybr 6*ome other tirifie and place 
than a Fourth of July dinner at the Grand Motel ; how 
Curtin thrilled us with patriotic recollections, and Forney 
made us look twice to see if that gray-headed and calm- 
spoken man could be the hot-brain of old, and Dan 
Dougherty " set the table in a roar," with his account of 
the facilities enjoyed by Americans for buying hats in 
Paris. But how over all and through all, the old flag 
seemed to be waving and the eagle looking down with 
his smile of fierce approval, and the Saloon of the Zodiac, 
for the time, as much a part of America as ever had been 
Independence Hall or the old " Cradle of Liberty." 

This "national event" thus briefly referred to, let the 
more legitimate business of the present paper be pursued, 
in hastily noting the features in American art, invention 
and manufacture, conferring honor on the nation, whether 
or not they won the recognition of cross or medal. And 
something of a very negative character in the latter regard 
naturally comes first in order. 

In hastily glancing at the picture-gallery of the Exposi- 
tion, the American pictures were purposely left unmen- 
tioned, because they demanded the justice of mention at 
greater length than was there possible. Had a jury of 
the Exposition been writing, there is every probability 
that the later as well as the earlier mention would have 
been avoided ; for certainly so much of collective merit was 



AMERICA'S SHARE. 219 

never before met with such total want of appreciation by 
any pretendedly -judicial body on earth. 

The American contribution of pictures has reflected the 
very highest credit upon the country whence it emanated, 
and not even the stupidity or unfairness of a jury can invali- 
date the fact in the public mind. Let us see what were the 
works by favorite artists forming leading features, and 
inquire what other nation could be entitled to sweep all 
the honors away from it. Something, of course, must be 
allowed for local feeling and local knowledge of subjects 
treated ; but even making allowance for that prejudice, if 
we are not a nation of ignoramuses in all that pertains to 
art — worshippers of daubs because they chance to be our 
own — it cannot be possible that we have built entirely 
without foundation when we reared a structure of national 
pride, on — 

Beard's " Dancing Bears," Bierstadt's " Rocky Moun- 
tains," Casilear's " Plains of Genesee," Church's " Nia- 
gara" and '' Rainy Season in the Tropics," Durand's 
"In the Wood," Elliott's "Fletcher Harper," Gignoux's 
" Mount Washington," Henry Peters Gray's " Apple of 
Discord," Hubbard's " Adirondacks," Huntington's "Re- 
publican Court," Eastman Johnson's " Old Kentucky 
Home," " Violin Player," and " Sunday Morning ;" Ken- 
sett's " Lake George in Autumn," " Opening in the White 
Mountains," and "Morning on the Coast of Massachu- 
setts ;" Leutze's " Mary Stuart Hearing Mass," Weir's " Gun 
Foundry," Edwin White's "Recollections of Siberia," 
MacEntee's "End of October " and "Autumn in the Woods 
of Asshokan," Mignot's " Sources of the Susquehanna," 
James M. Hart's "Connecticut River," Gifford's "Twi- 
light on Mount Hunter," Healy's " General Sherman," 
Winslow Homer's " Confederate Prisoners," W. M. Hunt's 
"Italian Boys," Geo. Inness's "Sunset in America," Lamb- 
din's " Last Sleep," May's " Lear and Cordelia," Morau'a 



220 PARIS IN '67. 

" Autumn in Pennsylvania," W. F. Ricliards's " Foggy Day 
at Nantucket," Whittridge's " Coast of Rhode Island," and 
Geo. A. Bakers two "Portraits." 

Thirty-six pictures are named in the foregoing selection 
from the seventy-five oil paintings exhibited ; and to them 
may be added, under the head of " drawings," a spirited 
" Cavalry Charge at Fredericksburg," by Darley, and a 
characteristic *' Wounded Drummer," by Eastman John- 
son. Of the remaining works in oil, if few or none rise to 
the level of the pictures named, there is, at least, not one 
absolutely discreditable, and scarcely one that would not 
command warm admiration if removed into less dangerous 
neighborhood. And of that thirty-six — how many hearts 
have they filled with pleasure equally warm and intelli- 
gent — how have some of them become synonyms for 
excellence in their line, with sterner critics than com- 
patriots may always choose to be. How has Beard's 
" Dancing Bears " joined with his "March of Silenus" and 
his " Grimalkin's Dream," to stamp him as the first deline- 
ator of humanity in animals, of any age ? and Church's 
" Niagara " literally thrown all other renderings of the 
Great Fall out of memory, from its blended excellence of 
points of view, color and management ? and Bierstadt's 
" Rocky Mountains " absolutely opened a new world in 
art, fascinating beyond comparison, even if a little reckless 
and unreal? and Eastman Johnson's "Old Kentucky 
Home " become a household word as the very best type of 
the picturesque slave-decline, now finally passed away ? 
and Weir's " Gun Foundry " taken rank with the very 
finest efforts of the Dusseldorf school in its wonderful 
management of varying lights, besides displaying intense 
realism and most accurate observation ? and Giffbrd's 
*' Twilight," with that star seeming to burn like living 
fire in the intense blue, been owned the very idealization 
of nightfall on the romantic Catskills? and Kensett's 



AMERICA' S SHARE. 221 

" Lake George " won the palm as the purest of all delinea- 
tions of oft-painted Horicon in its sweetest hour of Autumn 
repose ? and Huntington's " Republican Court " been held 
a historical painting of marked value, as well as an artistic 
triumph under serious difficulties, in grouping and cos- 
tume? and Durand in landscape and Elliott in portraiture 
long ago been admitted to that eclectic pantheon from 
which the worthily-welcomed " go no more out forever ?" 

It was not — (perish the tongue and pen that would make 
such an assertion) — national prejudice alone, or even prin- 
cipally, making the thousands of intelligent Americans who 
walked through the crowded galleries of the Exposition, 
well content with the works of their own artists — ay, proud 
of them, in the face of all Europe, and when they saw them 
brought into comparison with many of the best works of 
the age in all lands. It was cultured pride in the talent 
as well as the nationality of the painters which made the 
breath come a little thick, and the throat swell a trifle 
chokingly, so often, when these recalled the unpretending 
and comparatively nameless galleries of the New World. 
And let it be said, once for all, that whatever may be the 
fact in historical, figure and genre painting — branches of 
art to which too few of our native artists have yet been 
wise enough to turn their keen faculty of observation — 
nothing in the Exposition has invalidated the claim some 
time since made by the country, and more than half ad- 
mitted by the world — that in the field of contemporary 
landscape-painting^ America is at the present moment pre- 
eminent among the nations^ and with a fair prospect of 
soon becoming unapproachable. 

There have been seriously-regretted absences, of course, 
in the American art department, as in all others. Some- 
thing of Sonntag's, showing his wonderful management 
of mist on river scenery, should hate found place. So of 
Nast, some of whose battle-sketches and caricatures, at 



222 PARIS IN' '67. 

least, should have shown the work of our very best de- 
signer, after Darley if not beside him. So of J. G. Brown, 
confessedly the very best of our pure ge?i7'e painters. So of 
George L. Brown, some of whose coast-scenes would make 
him national, or even cosmopolitan, if he had not become 
exclusively wedded to Boston. So of Addison Richards, 
some of whose pieces of charming elaboration in foliage 
are worth the study even of Europe. So of Constant Mayer, 
whose "Love's Melancholy" should have gone over, at 
any sacrifice, to show Frenchmen how deftly their coun- 
trymen paint in a purer and better atmosphere, retaining, 
meanwhile, their best recollections of home. Yet of 
what use, indeed, would all this have been, in the face of 
the evident determination to prove that the pictorial art 
of all the world centred on the European continent — that 
" American savages " daubed instead of painting ? 

It is almost idle, in conclusion of this branch of national 
examination, to say a word of our exhibition of sculpture 
— a mere drop in the widest of oceans, in the midst of the 
overwhelming collections of the older nations, and not re- 
markably creditable even in comparison with its extent. 
Ward's forcible " Indian Hunter " has been the best as well 
as the largest work in the trifling array ; while Rogers's 
groups of statuettes have been almost too local for cosmo- 
politan understanding ; Miss Hosmer's " Fawns " have given 
little indication of the power really existing in the sculptor 
of " Zenobia;" Launt Thompson long ago promised better 
things than he has fulfilled in either his " Napoleon " or 
his "bust of Bryant " — both creditable and nothing more ; 
and Yolk, representative of the West, if he has faithfully 
moulded our late lamented Chief Magistrate has certainly not 
caught him in the happiest of moments. The best of our 
sculptors (and we are not rich, nationally, in the array) too 
much lack scope and purpose, are too busy and too much 
European at Rome or Florence, or too intent on finishing 



AMEEIGA'S SHARE. . 223 

fat-jobs of public-ground raouumeiits, to make much of a 
figure in the midst of sculpture-gemmed and sculpture- 
growing Europe. 

But enough of American art abroad — meritorious or the 
reverse — appreciated or unappreciated: a much more 
varied review of objects contributing to the "honors" we 
have won or deserved, must have place in a concluding 
paper. 



XIX. 

AMERICA'S SHARE IN THE DIVIDED HONORS. 

SECOND PAPER. 

In speaking, with unavoidable brevity, of so many of 
tbe quarter-of-a-thousand prizes achieved by America at 
the Exposition as seem to bear most strongly on the national 
honor — some attempt at classification is necessary, and yet 
by no means that of the Commission in the ofiicial catalogue 
and report of awards. And it is only fair to premise that 
the list would have been much larger, but for hindrances 
which left many articles at Havre when they should have 
been safely housed in the Exposition Building and enrolled 
in the catalogue. 

NATIONAL AND STATE COLLECTIONS. 

Sanitary Commission of the United States, for collection 
of material, used in servicQ during the war of 1861 — grand 
prize. 

Remarks. — An "honor well deserved, as the collection reflected credit 
upon every American, and awoke much national pride, in spite of the 
fact that we had suffered something too much of the Sanitary Commission 
business before the close of the struggle. In connection with this, it 
should be remarked that there was also an interesting exhibition of 
ambulances, &c., by the Quartermaster's Department, but for some cause 
placed ''/lor.s concours,'^ and not reckoned as in competition. 

State of Illinois, for primary school-house, silver medal. 

Remarks. — With reference to this building, in the park, e^jough has- 
been already said in another connection. 



AMEBIC A' S SHAEE. 925 

Bureau of Agriculture, Washington, for collection of grains 
and seeds — bronze medal. 

State of California, for collection of grains — silver medal. 

State of Wisconsin, for do. — bronze medal. 

State of Kansas, for do. — bronze medal. 

State of Illinois, for do. — bronze medal. 

State of Ohio, for do. — bronze medal. 

State of Minnesota, for do — honorable mention. 

State of Iowa, for do. — honorable mention. 

Remarks. — For the second, if not the first, grain-growing country in 
the world, America did not cover herself with honor in her cereals, in 
the face of the immense and most excellent collections of France, Russia, 
Belgium, Italy, &c. Our collections were neither large in extent nor 
arranged for favorable view. One exception, however, is to be made ; 
the California wheat demanded attention for its size, plumpness, and 
fine color, — and received it. 

State of Alabama, for short staple cotton — honorable 
mention. 

State of Pennsylvania, for anthracite coal — bronze mt^dal. 

State of Wisconsin, for collection of minerals — bronze 
medal. 

State of Illinois, for collection of minerals — silver medal. 
• Remarks. — In that detail which only a few years ago was believed 
powerful enough to rule the world, — cotton, — the feeble exhibition made 
this season was a melancholy mark of our decadence. A little from 
Alabama, under State patronage ; less from Louisiana, through private 
enterprise; and that was all. "Cotton" may be "king" again, but 
not for us — the truth is painfully evident. Of coal, the Pennsylvania 
collection was about one-tenth what it should have been, and received 
no justice in the award. There were some fine leads in the Illinois 
collection, and some fine leads and coppers in that of Wisconsin. And 
no more appropriate place than this could be found to say that in 
minerals, generally, America martyred her wonderful chances — that the 
gold and silver specimens from California, Colorado, Idaho, &c., sent by 
private parties, though meritorious enough in quality, have rather 
damaged than benefited us in the minds of Europeans, by failiug to 
convey any idea of our wonderful resources in minerals, or any suspicion 
what we could and should have done if making an earnest competition 
for a palm worth winning. 
10* 



226 PARIS IN '67. 

FINE AETS. 

Frederick E. Church, ^N'ew York (second prize), for oil 
painting — silver medal. 

Remarks. — The general injustice done to American artists has before 
been spoken of. The medal to Mr. Church, for "Niagara," which 
should have been a first instead of a second class, was no better de- 
served than corresponding recognition would have been by Bierstadt, 
for the "Eocky Mountains;" Elliot, for his portraits; Beard, for his 
"Dancing Bears;" Eastman Johnson, for his "Old Kentucky Home;" 
and others whose names will be recalled from the list previously given. 

PEOMOTION OP HUMAN GOOD. 

Cyrus W. Field, New York, as promoter of the system 
of ocean telegraphy, and in connection with the Anglo- 
American companies — gold medal. 

Dr. F. W. Evans, Paris, for articles connected with the 
American Sanitary Commission, and in conjunction with 
that commission — gold medal. 

Prof. Hughes, Kentucky, for printing telegraph — gold 
medal. 

Dr. Jackson, for discovery of emery in America — bronze 
medal.- 

Dr. J. K. Barnes, Surgeon-General, U. S. A., for material 
of the military hospitals of the United States — silver medal. 

Remarks. — "With reference to the propriety of the first two awards 
named there can be no question, Mr. Field having actually bridged the 
gulf between the impossible and the possible, by forcing forward an 
enterprise which might have lingered for a quarter of a century longer 
without him ; and Dr. Evans being entitled to the highest credit for his 
Sanitary Commission labors, and the preparation of a collection reflecting 
pride upon every American. Opinions diflfer widely as to the actual 
advance in telegraphic knowledge and practicality, consequent upon the 
ideas of Prof. Hughes. If the "Dr. Jackson," as supposed, is Dr. 
Charles T. Jackson, the geologist, of Boston, the bronze medal is but a 
small addition to the Cross of the Legion already for many years worn 
by him. Dr. Barnes's surgical services to the army are too well known 
to make even a reminder of the propriety of his award necessaiy. 



AMERICA' S SHARE. 227 

MUSICAL IJS'STEUMENTS. 

Steinway & Sons, New York, for grand, square, and 
upright pianos — first gold medal. 

Remarks. — If America has failed to embrace some of her best oppor- 
tunities, and been unjustly treated in otiiers, she has certainly both won 
and deserved honor in a detail in which Europe might have been sup- 
posed to possess all the advantages of age and higher luxury. That 
American musical-instrument manufacturers should sweep away the first 
prizes for the construction of the most difficult of instruments, with all 
Europe in competition, may well have astonished that large section of 
the world known as "outsiders;" but it can scarcely have produced a 
similar effect either upon those who haunted the Great Exposition Build- 
ing very closely during the summer, or those who have been familiar 
with the course of piano-manufacture in this country. For many years, 
as is well known, the lucky winners of this first prize have been adding 
invention after invention to the previous knowledge of the craft, the 
greatest of the great problems being, always, improvement ot materials 
with reference to the trying American climate, and improvement of appli- 
cation for the production of round, resonant, and well-sustained sound. 
Probably it was quite as much owing to the former as the latter, that the 
Steinway grands, unimpaired by removal, sea-air, or change of climate, 
constantly rolled such volumes of melodious sound through the Exposi- 
tion Building, that crowds pressed around them as if they had supplied 
an entirely new feature in musical construction — that Felicien David (who 
can forget the mcestro David's playing his own " Desert" more than half 
through, one afternoon, to an enraptured crowd?) and Marmontel, and 
Mortier de Fontaine, and Alfred Jaell, and Wieniawski, and a hundred 
other musical lights went half-mad over them — and that they swept 
the jury off their feet as if their waves of sound had been literal waves 
of water. No prize, of all the distribution, was better deserved than 
that of the Messrs. Steinway ; and none, probably, excites less jealousy, 
even if it should happen to be true that one of the two only medals of 
the same rank awarded to any European house, was awarded by special 
order of the Emperor, and without the piano contributed hy that house being 
either tried or even unlocked ! 

Chickering & Sons, New York and Boston, for pianos — 
gold medal. 

F. C. Chickering, Boston, Cross of the Legion of Honor, 
as distinguished foreign citizen and mechanician. 



228 PARIS IJSr '67. 

Mason & Hamlin, New York, for cabinet organs and 
harmoniums — silver medal. 

Remarks. — Another honor most richly deserved, thouo-h the medal 
might have been gold without injury to the cause of justice. Mason & 
Hamlin, in whose favor, as receivers of first honors at home, all the other 
American manufacturers withdrew, sent over their ordinary instruments, 
without extra finish or preparation, and won one of the three grand 
prizes awarded to this class of instruments, — the two others being taken 
by Miistel, of Paris, and Trayaer, of Stuttgart. It is a well-understood 
fact, in Paris, that the Alexandre prize was awarded to him as a 
pet of the Emperor's in the Magasin Reunis, and really without any 
relerence to his organs. The Mason & Hamlin organs were a marked 
feature in the Exposition, winning European acknowledgment of the 
roundness and fullness of their tone, and the compact beauty and excel- 
lence of their model, — reflecting honor on the country, and well deserv- 
ing their first-class recognition. 

J. Gemunder, New York, for stringed instruments — 
bronze medal. 

L. Schrieber, New York, for brass wind-instruments — • 
bronze medal. 

STEAM ENGINES AND MACHINERY. 

Grant Locomotive Works, Paterson, New Jersey, for 
locomotive " America " — gold medal. 

Remarks. — An award eminently satisfactory, especially to the thou- 
sands of Americans who gathered round the splendid engine, on the 
Fourth of July and so many other days, and marked its massive weight, 
matchless grace, perfect finish, and evidence of wonderful power. It 
ennobled the shabby American annexe, from the moment of entering; it 
completed the triumph of American rolling-stock over European ; and 
the American people owe Grant another medal, if he is not satisfied with 
the present one, for giving them so fair an object of legitimate pride and 
boast. It would be pleasant to believe that the European engine-buLlders 
may have learned something from it, in the way of combining power 
and beauty ; but that might be too much to hope I 

Corliss Steam-Engine Company, Providence, for station- 
ary engine — gold medal. 

Remarks. — An elaborately finished engine, attracting much attention 
throughout all the exhibition, for the quiet force of its movement, which 
some one designated as " working as gently as an infant's breathing, 



AMERICA' S SHARE. 229 

while it carried a power mighty enough to unsettle a pyramid;" and the 
award only indorses the previous standing of the engine-builders, lite- 
rally at the head of that important branch of motor-construction. 

J. B. Root, l!^ew York, for rotary (trunk) engine — 
bronze medal. 

Remarks. — The story of this award is somewhat curious. Mr. Bacon, 
of the Boston cracker-bakery, carried over an ordinary Eoot Trunk 
Engine, of small size, to run his machinery, its entire want of ornamenta- 
tion making it literally more ordinary -looking than those commonly in 
store. It was not thought of as in competition ; but its obvious light- 
ness, compactness, economy of space and fuel, and matchless fitness for 
manufacturing purposes, carried the visitors captive, and forced the 
jury into awarding a medal that had never been asked for ! In some 
regards this testimonial to the Root Engine is the very highest of all the 
aw^ards of the Exposition ; but the hundreds of houses in New York 
and elsewhere, that employ this motor, will feel no surprise at the 
event. 

There is a regret, however, connected with the presence of this 
engine. The Root Tubular Boiler should have been with it, and there 
is no question whatever that a gold medal would have been the result. 
For really a boiler that cannot explode ; that can be made larger at 
will, using all the previous material; that can be taken apart and 
packed in hundred-pound pieces, to carry over a plain or up a mountain ; 
that takes little space, and can be examined as to any place of defect in 
a moment — such an anomaly as this (and all this is the Root Boiler) 
might have astonished even Johnny Crapaud, who does not astonish 
easily. 

Awards also in this department to W. B. Douglas, 
Conn., for pumps ; to L. H. Olmsted, Conn., for pulleys ; 
to Pickering & Davis, New York, for spring steam-engine 
governor ; to Howe Scale Co., Yt., for scales ; to Andrews 
& Bros., New York, for oscillating engine ; to H. C. 
Dart, for rotary engine ; to Clark Fire-Damper Company, 
and American Steam-Gauge Company, for steam-registers ; 
to J. D wight & Co., for steam-pump ; to Hicks Engine 
Company, New York, for engine ; to F. S. Pease, Buffalo, 
for petroleum-pump ; to J. A. Robinson, New York, for 
Ericsson hot-air engine ; to Sellers & Co., Phila., for tool- 



230 PARIS IN '67. . 

machine ; to Brown & Sharpe, Providence, for spinning- 
machine; to Wickersham & Co., for nail-machine; to I. 
Gregg, Philadelphia, for brick-machine ; to Harris &> Co., 
Springfield, for lathes, &c., &c. ; and to 

Fairbanks & Co., New York, and St. Johnsbury, Yt., for 
scales and railway scales — silver medal and bronze medal. 

Remarks. — Apart from the standard character of the Fairbanks scales, 
and the attention which they attracted in the American annexe, this 
award would have been well made, if only to mark appreciation of a 
firm who have raised the business of scale-manufacture from compara- 
tive nothing to one of the largest in the Union or elsewhere — at the 
same time that they have contributed so largely to that great desidera- 
tum for the whole mercantile world : Reliahle weights and measures. 

C. H. McCormick, Chicago, for reaping and mowing 
machines — gold medal. 

Walter A. Wood, Hoosic Falls, New York, for mowing 
and reaping machines — gold medal. 

J. G. Perry, Kingston, for Mowing-Machines — ^bronze 
medal. 

SEW^IJSTG AND BUTTOlSr-HOLE MACHHSTES. 

Howe Machine Company, New York, for . sewing- 
machines — gold medal. To Elias Howe, Jr., as promoter 
of manufacture of sewing-machines — Cross of the Legion 
of Honor. 

Remarks. — This double-first honor to the Howe machine and its 
proprietor, not only tallied with the universal indorsement at the' 
Exposition, for its perfection of work and action, but came with a 
peculiar appropriateness to the last days of Mr. Howe, who, since that 
award, has already laid aside the red ribbon and gone to his rest, after 
nearly a quarter of a century of later life devoted to the invention and 
perfection of the machine bearing his name, and thus leading the list 
of American sewing-machines, at home and abroad. 

Florence Se wing-Machine Company, New York, for 
family sewing-machines — silver medal. 

Remarks. — Another award eminently well deserved, all observation 
at the Exposition and elsewhere demonstrating that, as a reliable, 
effective family sewing-madiine, the Florence is destined to take con- 
tinually higher rank, and fill a place otherwise left vacant. 



AMERICA' S SHARE. 231 

Weed Sewing-Machine Company, New York, for sew- 
ing-machines — silver medal. 

Empire Sewing-Machine Company, New York, for sew- 
ing-machines — honorable mention. 

A. B. Howe, New York, for sewing-machines — bronze 
medal. 

Wheeler & Wilson, New York, for button-hole machines 
— gold medal. 

A. J. House, New York (house of Wheeler & Wilson), 
as co-operator in button-hole machine invention — bronze 
medal. 

A. H. House, New York (house of Wheeler & Wilson), 
as do., do. 

RemarJcs. — Very high appreciation of the "Wheeler & "Wilson button- 
hole machine (which is understood to owe much of its success to one of 
the working-proprietors, Mr. A. G-. Seaman, formerly connected with the 
Superintendeucy of Public Printing, at "Washington) was shown by the 
jury in conferring upon both the Brothers House, the sole inventors, 
medals of honor as co-operators. The truth is, that if aristocratic 
Europe is "above buttons," it is not ahoY e luUon-holes ; and that this 
little American invention, which does so well what most persons so much 
dishke to do by hand, and what so large a proportion do so badly, still 
retains its charm of novelty to the mechanicians of the Old "World, who 
have not yet found time to "appropriate" it in so-called "inventions" 
of their own, as they have unscrupulously done with every form and 
pattern of the American sewing-machine — with the most ludicrous of 
artistic effects, however. 

American Button-Hole Company, Philadelphia, for 
button-hole machines — silver medal. 

Union Button-Hole and Embroidery Company, Boston, 
for button-hole machines — bronze medal. 

Bartram & Fenton Company, Danbury, for button-hole 
machines — bronze medal. 

Hinkley Knitting-Machine Company, Bath, Maine, for 
knitting-machines — ^bronze medal. 

Remarks. — A very ingenious little machine, with a single, needle, great 



232 PARIS IN '67. 

simplicity and rapidity, and a prospect that it will at no distant day 
drive the old grandmother from her needles, and revolutionize the whole 

system of " knitting sale-socks." 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

John Stephenson, New York, for street-railway carriage 
(car) — honorable mention. 

Remarhs. — ^^There is a brief story attached to the Stephenson car, too. 
One of the handsomest things of its class ever built, even by this manu- 
facturer, who supplies America, Europe, Asia and the islands of the sea, 
— designed for the Calcutta Eailway and stranded in the wreck of the 
Calcutta Bank, — it attracted wonderful attention in the American annexe, 
and reminded more people of the missing loves and delights of home 
than almost any thing else in the exhibition. It would have taken a 
gold medal, beyond a doubt, in recognition of its own perfection, and the 
claims of by far the best builder of street-cars and omnibuses on either 
continent — but for the little difficulty that half the p&ople of Europe, from 
whom the juries came, know nothing of what a street car is, and the other half 
hate and fear the whole idea of laying rails in city streets. 

Wood Brothers, New York, for phaeton — silver medal. 
Hall & Sons, Boston, for carriages — silver medal. 

Remarks. — More scope for fault-finding. Two or three carriages, well- 
enough in their way, but such an apology for a "-display " as seemed 
little less than a farce. We have a carriage-maker in America, whose 
splendid vehicles whirl almost as continuously through the parks 
of London, Paris, and Vienna, as through our own at home. The ques- 
tion is for Brewster of Broome Street (now just occupying his magnifi- 
cent new repository at Fifth Avenue and Fourteenth Street) — Why 
were not a cloud of those light, elegant and perfectly-appointed carriages, 
the very ideal of combined strength, taste, and finish, sent over to add to 
the national prestige, and show Europeans that we know how to ride as 
well as walk ? Mr. Brewster, son and scion of the Brewster, and admit- 
tedly first of American carriage-builders, must do better next time, or ' 
explain the reason why he does not ! 

Farrell & Sherring, New York, for safes (" coffres forts'''') 
— bronze medal. 

Remarks. — Even anxious inquiry has failed to discover the locality of 
the above bronze-medalists, named in the official report ; but the truth 
is that, as Mr. Toots might say, it is of no consequence. The American 



AMFBI CA\S SHARE. 233 

display of safes, which might so easily have been a line one (for we 
have first-class safe-makers), really amounted to nothing in the face of 
the splendid English, Austrian, Prussian, Belgian, &c. Better luck, fol- 
lowing more creditable things, next time. 

L. M. Rutherford, New York, for astronomical photo- 
graphs — silver medal. Watkins, Saa Francisco, landscapes, 
bronze do. S. Beer, New York, stereoscopic proofs, do. 
Willard & Co., New York, objectives, do. 

Remarks. — Such is the beggarly account of jjhotographic prizes taken, 
and nothing better deserved, by a nation which really furnishes the best 
photography yet achieved; and there should be some means of severely 
punishing the defaulters. To-day, in all the higher walks of portraiture, 
both Grurney and Brady, of New York, are the superiors of Nadar and 
Thibault, of Paris; the cards and imperials of celebrities and "the 
people," coming from the studio of the former, and the similar work and 
national collection of the latter, are artistic features in the city and 
the land, as well as the clearest and purest untouched- work known to 
the art; and during this very Exposition, some of the cards issued by 
Jordan from his unpretending atelier^ in Greenwich Street, have posed 
more than one of the Parisian photographers to find their equal. 
American portrait photography to-day leads the world: what a shame 
that its high-priests should have allowed the honors to fail from the lack 
of respectable contestants I The blame lies principally with Gurney and 
Brady, the former of whom was probably too busy joining Fabronius 
in chromo.-lithing, and the latter in catching and fixing all the gene- 
rals and statesmen, to have time for the obvious duty laid upon them by 
the Exposition. 

C. G. Gnnther & Sons, New York, for display of furs 
— silver medal. 

Remarks. — A well-deserved premium, for one of the most creditable, 
varied, and pleasing displays in the Exposition, emanating, too, from a 
firm who have been for nearly half a century elevating American fur- 
riery to its present height, and who are to-day (what not all who know 
them suspect) the very largest fur-dealers and furriers in the world, as 
well as the purveyors of fashion, nobility, and even royalty. There 
seemed half a menagerie of stuffed bears, wolves, and foxes, in their 
corner; and the rich robes and ladies' furs — how some of us will remem- 
ber that warm collection when the winter wind nips a little more closely I 



233a PARIS IN '67. 

Tiffany & Co., New York, for silver ware — bronze 

medal. 

Remarhs. — The very creditable display of this house was headed by a 
splendid model in solid silver, some two and a half feet high, of the 
Crawford Statue ©rowning the Capitol at Washington; accompanied by 
two exquisite models in silver, well remembered by New Yorkers, of the 
Sound-steamer " Commonwealth " and the steamship " Vanderbilt ;" and 
supplemented by an excellent collection of rich table-ware, from the 
shelves and not made for the occasion. But even this display, so pleas- 
ing to American eyes, will no doubt be far surpassed at that early day 
when the diamonds, precious stones, and rich plate flash from the 
new building that is to supplant the Church of the Puritans, on Union 
Square. 

" HOES CONCOUES." 

IngersoU's life-boat sbip " Red, White, and Blue," and 
—every thing else ! 

RemarTcs. — Space fails ; and oot even the justice of respectable men- 
tion can be given to Dr. Howe's Books for the Blind; Duffield's Hams ; 
Brown and Level's Boat-Hoisting apparatus ; DaboU's Fog-Trumpet ; 
Smith's Ales; Burt's Shoes; Bacon's Cracker Bakery; Day's India 
Rubber; Colt's, Smith & Wesson's, Remington's, Providence, Windsor, 
and other Fire-Arms ; Grail Borden's Condensed Meats; Tieman's Sur- 
gical Instruments ; the California and Ohio Wines ; the Canned Fruits 
from New Orleans and New York ; Chapin's Rotary Bridge ; Gregg's 
Brick Machine; Goodell's Apple-Parers ; the Agricultural Products of 
(New Jersey) Vineland ; Appleton's and Houghton's Books ; White's and 
Allen's Artificial Teeth; Selpho's Legs; Cummings' Hospital Wagon; 
Bond's Astronomical Clocks and Instruments ; the Charts of the Hydro- 
graphic Bureau ; Howell's Paper Hangings ; Tucker's Iron Bronzes ; 
Wright's Perfumery; Collins' Axes ; the New York Mills Cotton Goods; 
the Webster and Mission Woolens ; the Williams Silks ; the Washington 
Shawls ; the T obaccos of New Orleans, Virginia, and New York ; Pease's 
Petroleum Oils; the Belmont Parafines; Wells' Type-Dresser; Degener's 
Printing Presses ; the American Soda Fountains — not to these, nor any 
other of the hundred remaining objects, all of which filled up some space 
for the jealous eye of the American abroad, and added to the roll of his 
national honors. 

Then, what could we not have done — once more 1 — even in splendors 
once entirely European? We have reached that pitch of luxury in 
which we have -'parlors," now, instead of vulgar "shops;" and in one 



AMERICA'S SHARE.' 2335 

of them — that of Stevens, on Union Square — glitter through the plate- 
glass windows many of the choicest articles notable at the Exposition ; 
while rich bronzes and porcelains seem melting under the eye, and 
such structures in diamonds and precious stones, and such elabo- 
rations in heavy plate, all made to order, in the very imitation of 
royalty, go out every day, as would equally become the boudoir and the 
luffet of a Duchess. And in yet another " parlor " — that of Burr, on 
Broadway, just now fairly opening in all its splendor — there are not only 
the appointments of a drawing-room of unequaled luxury, but such a 
sea of diamonds and other gems that one seems almost to drown in 
them — while one single necklace (not matched by many things even in 
monarchical Europe) displays sixty thousand dollars in a cluster! 
Manufactured, as well as exhibited, too ; for Burr is the father of the 
diamond-trade in America, builds his own clusters of splendor, as if he 
might be weaving rainbows, and attracts the dames of Fifth Avenue 
and Murray Hill, as the occupants of few " parlors" could do, whatever 
their claims to wealth and fashion. 

And in buildings and the occupation of them, what could we not show 
in an exhibition broad enough to reach us ? Asa building for its costly 
purpose, apart from the Aladdin's-palace of splendor-in-goods which it 
holds, BaU & Black's stands to-day, as it stood when the Prince of 
"Wales replenished his jewelry-cases at it, a wonder of massive architec- 
ture, without, and a yet greater wonder, far beyond any thing of its class 
in Europe, in that interior where frescoed ceilings and crusted columns 
furnish sky and horizon for the gardens of gems. Of the gems them- 
selves, the bronzes, plate, and articles of taste and virtu, what better 
wish could there be than that the whole of them, with the building, 
could have been dropped down on the Boulevards in June ? 

Why cannot the next Exposition come to us, instead of our going to 
it — so that we could show all these magnificences? and Walraven's, 
Brown & Spaulding's, Haughwout's, "Gale's, Lord & Taylor's, Brewster's, 
&c. ; and' Stewart's new palace, with one corner missing; and one or 
two of the now Express buildings, with their wagons ; and a Sound- 
steamer of the four-storied character; and "Norwood;" and one of our 
tax-lists; and a distillery ; and an election; and no longer be obliged to 
mope over "America's share of the divided honors," but quietly put 
all the honors in our own pockets, instead of almost all, leaving a small 
margin for " outside barbarians," as France has done 1 



XX. 

THE SIDE-SHOWS OF PARIS. 

It is not always possible to say the most about the thing 
justifying the most extended comment; and the "side- 
shows of Paris " — theme upon which a thousand writers 
have descanted and a thousand more mig-ht descant without 
exhausting it — must be handled with the utmost brevity, 
from the double fact that to the Parisian habitue any labor- 
ed resume of them could not be otherwise than tantalizing 
from its incompleteness, while to the absentee no similar 
array of words could possibly convey less meaning. The 
invitation to "see Paris and die!" in which that capital 
disputes with Naples, has something of common-sense in 
its origin, no city on the globe more palpably needing to be 
" seen, to be appreciated." Of no city in the world, prob- 
ably, is the atmospheric aroma more difficult to catch, 
bottle and carry away for distant distribution ; while there 
is certainly none more easy to distinguish, though perhaps 
not always to analyze, while under its immediate influence. 

The visitor to Paris, with any less-notable special object 
in view than the Great Exposition, during the summer of 
'67, would have been in serious danger of falling into that 
trouble which, they say, sometimes occurs with a dinner — 
the hors (Voeuvres^ or side-dishes, being so much more 
appetizing than the central ones, that the latter, subject of 
principal preparation and pride, fall into painful discredit. 
The Exposition itself has been overwhelmingly-attractive 
enough in the present instance to obviate any such peril, 



SIDE-SHOWS. 235 

though a corresponding fact remains — that to a very large 
part of those now visiting Paris for the first time, the 
strength and variety of outside attractions have tended 
somewhat to confuse the callow mind, with doubts 
whether a certain statue or picture was seen within the 
Exposition-grounds or at the Louvre or Versailles — wheth- 
er it really was at Asnieres that the caixcan was so audac- 
iously danced on a certain evening, or that the perform- 
ance took place in some one of the departments of the 
*' great show !" If older habitues of Paris have escaped 
similar confusion, it is well : if the Governor does not 
prove, before he concludes the present paper, that a state 
of viin ordhiaire and grisette-worship has been his normal 
condition during late visits, better still. 

How shall one proceed to indicate, even in the dryest 
manner, the variety and brilliancy of the " side-shows " that 
have wooed the stranger temporarily turned Parisian ? 
Where begin — where leave off? Ah, the answer comes, 
something as it comes to a poor wretch with a horribly 
ennueyed evening before him and a serious question what 
to do with himself: " To the theatre !" 

Perhaps, after all, the theatre, with the phrase including 
alike the opera and the cafe-chantante, i>i the first and most 
legitimate of Parisian amusements. Everybody goes to 
the theatre, residents and visitors — of the latter, classes who 
no more attend such performances, at home, than they fre- 
quent bagnios, and who do not intend to continue the habit 
a mile beyond the charmed (and charming) precincts. Of 
coarse, not all the theaters and more-or-less-eclectic opera- 
houses of Paris have been open during what might be called 
"the height of the Exhibition summer;" but at no time 
have there failed to be more houses open than any other 
city ever saw even in the midst of the winter amusement- 
season. And in those earlier days in which "Tommy" and 
the "Counsellor's Lady" saw the Opening — ay, even on to 



236 PARIS /^ '67. 

those in which the latter saw and described the great Im- 
perial Balls — have not literally all of them wooed attend- 
ance and rounded the pleasant circle of Parisian dissipations? 
Has n ': the Grand Opera (first or last) been blessed with 
Patti? — Patti, of whom the best 'tnot of the season has lately 
gone the rounds of Paris, doubly capital to those familiar 
with the musical composition, " Rose and Rossignol ;" that 
"Patti's mouth, when she opens it, is not only 'rose' (pink 
red) but 'rossignol' (nightingale)." Has not the Theatre 
Lyrique shared in the glory, sharing, too, in alternations 
of silver-voiced Miolan-Carvalho and the Swedish second 
Jenny Lind, delicious Pauline Nilsson — as it is to be first, 
now, in presenting to France opinionated, overrated, but 
effective and popular Kellogg ? Has not the Theatre 
Francais, leading French school of dramatic art, and its 
wonderful company always designated as "the Emperor's 
comedians," presented tragedy and comedy in such rare 
perfection that the acting of colder Northerners has seemed 
little else than frozen, inane stupidity? Has not the 
Italiens had its grand opera, too, and its Patti, too, with 
weeks, during midsummer, in which Ned Sothern, funnier 
than ever, has driven the only half-understanding Parisians 
wild with the ''exquisite fooling" of Lord Dundreary? 
Has not the Yarietes given such ravishing renderings of 
Offenbach's "Grande Duchesse de Gerolstein" (its rare 
comic and musical beauties since more than half caricatured 
in this country, though effective even so), that to hear be- 
witching Mile. Schneider and make the acquaintance of the 
Grande Duchesse, Fritz, and Prince Paul, monarch after 
monarch has rushed there on the very first evening of arri- 
val ? Has not the Vaudeville been exhibiting excellence 
in acting, scarcely second to that of the Franyais, in the 
continuance of its marvelous success, " La Famille Benoi- 
ton" (played here at Wallack's as "The Fast Family," and 
at the New York Theatre Fran9ais in its original shape)? 



SIDE-SHOWS. 23T 

Has not the spectacular Porte St. Martin, after a very brief 
alternation, still run on the very same " Biche au Bois," 
scenery magnificent, costume scanty, and legs predomi- 
nant, which the Governor and St. Edward saw here so 
long ago as '65 — and added to it the lion-taming marvels 
of Batty, until the lion tamed Batty by partially eating 
him up ? Has not the Chatelet, spectacular rival of the 
Porte St. Martin, at last free from the profitable debris of 
" Le Deluge," restored the voluptuous half-naked splendors 
of " Cendrillon " (which New Yorkers, too, more or less 
enjoyed in the Hinkley production at the ISTew York, last 
season) ?" 

Has not the Ambigu supplied a spectacle quite as sensa- 
tional as either of the others in " Le Juif Errant " (dram- 
atization of Eugene Sue's " Wandering Jew," with all4:he 
horrors, and eke all the immoralities of that remarkable 
work, carefully preserved ) ? Has not the Palais Royal 
given " Vie de Paris " so naturally that the visitors (some 
of them royal, too) have almost believed that they were 
really in the midst of actual delicious breaches of the vari- 
ous commandments, instead of merely present at a repre- 
sentation ? Has not the Folies Dramatiques equalled 
either in the sensational effects and the rampant wickedness 
of " Les Canotiers de la Seine ?" Has not the Opera 
Comique supplied opera equal to that of the Grand Opera, 
with plenty of the mirth demanded by modern taste to 
season it ? Has not the Odeon supplied drama of the most 
pronounced character ; and the Gaiete allowed Menken to 
ride triumphant over the world, more saiis costume than 
en costume^ in her Mazeppa and " Pirates de la Savanne;" 
and the Fantaises Parisiennes given comic opera of a httle 
more free-and-easy order than either of those already 
named (all tastes are to be suited, and must be suited, at 
Paris) ; and have not the Cirque Napoleon and its rival, 
the Theatre du Prince Imperial, supplied horse-opera in 



238 PARIS IN '67. 

which the question which was the horse and which the 
rider (" yichever you please, my dear ! — you pays your 
money and you takes your choice ! ") has sometimes seemed 
to be more than doubtful? But the list grows wearisome, 
even if instructive, and it must conclude with the inquiry 
whether the Gymnase has forgotten its old specialty of 
spectacle mounted to the verge of intense realism, and 
whether there has been no Bouffes Parisians, wedded to 
Offenbach among composers and inevitable in musical 
comedies and vaudevilles ? 

Close after the Theatres of Paris naturally come the 
salons de concert chwmpUre (to use a phrase of which the 
French have probably never thought) — the open-air con- 
cert-salons, literally — the cafes chantante in which and 
around which so much of Parisian " life " (in several senses) 
inevitably, congregates. Their numbers are legion, in one 
shape and another, under cover and out of cover, and their 
degrees of irresistable Vivacity and irreproachable inde- 
cency as varied as their localities. Singing is the declared 
feature of most of them — singing, principally by females ; 
and the physical exhibitions which a French woman 
knows how to make as no other woman on earth, supply 
even a side-show to the side-show. In winter many of the 
best of them have winter-quarters on the Boulevards, 
as is the case with the Alcazar, on the Faubourg 
Poissoniere, whereat Therese has won her wonderful popu- 
larity by singing songs that just keep the hearer on that 
narrow line between amusement at the audacity and 
blasphemy at the degradation — and with Bat-a-clan, a yet 
more pronounced rival. The Alcazar, however (and it 
may be taken as the sufficient type of the better cafes 
chantante) is migratory and becomes the Alcazar d' Ete in 
summer — a handsome Moorish building, bordered with 
flaming lights and garden-surrounded, a little below the 
Rond Point of the Champs Elysees, where in the auditorum 



8IDE-SE0WS. 239 

a thousand persons may sit at open-air tables and pay for 
their admission by ordering ices, wines or flummery at 
round prices, while on a semi-circular covered stage an 
array of French beauty, reasonably decollete, lines the 
walls as a background to the alternate on e-and-an other of 
their number who advances to the front, sings and acts, 
and occasionally dances, so vivaciously, so rollickingly, so 
suggestively, so injuriously (to all the finer moral senses), 
but, alas ! so very, very enjoy ably ! 

Ah, that atmosphere of native French singing and danc- 
ing, at Paris and in the less-eclectic scenes where it is 
under least restraint — let a word of humiliating truth be 
told about it. The dangerous verge of wickedness is 
pleasant, even to those most sure to recoil at the consum- 
mated evil; there are plenty of others, not yet declared, 
like the corrupted lady who said, taking up a goblet of 
pure, sparkling water (the most appetizing of all beverages, 
after all, and in spite of excise blunders) and apostrophiz- 
ing it before touching it to the lip : " Ah, if it was only 
wrong to drink that, now, how delicious it would be ! " 
The pleasant, hazy, intoxicating atmosphere of the verge of 
lorette-dom^ the more dangerous because only half under- 
stood, is that in which Paris wraps limbs, fans cheeks and 
captivates senses ; and — loe like it : like it, whether 
we rush deeper into it, or not ; like it, whether we under- 
stand, or not, precisely what it means. Thousands of un- 
traveled New Yorkers have thrilled not a little while 
they laughed, at some of Tostee's singing, in the " Grand 
Duchesse," and a few of her motions, even at other times 
than when she was breaking into that bit of cancan — • 
without being at all aware what was the precise thing that 
captivated their senses. Let me tell them what it has 
been — the insensible aroma and atmosphere of the Parisian 
cafes chantante, the close approach to the Parisian lorette, 
the bringing over to New York Fourteenth Street of some- 
11 



240 PARIS IN 'Q1 

thing not far removed from the Parisian Quartier Breda. 
Prenez garde^ messieurs et tnesdames I — as the writer has 
not the slightest intention of doing, any more than he 
has a hope that his explanation will be taken as anything 
else than arrant folly. 

The great gardens of Paris, meanwhile, overtop even the 
cafes cJiantmits as " side-shows." Asni^res, a few miles 
from Paris, on the Versailles and St. Cloud railway, is the 
most popular of the suburban gardens ; and there is no 
special description of it necessary, for when trees, flowers, 
lights, music, crowds and unrestrained dancing are men- 
tioned, and the additional suggestion is made that they are 
all in perfection, the whole fact suggests itself to those who 
have any " experience." This of the night : by day 
Asni^res has its boat-races on the Seine, and Hoboken on 
regatta-day will give some faint idea of them. But at 
nearer Paris than Asnieres lie the leading attractions in 
this detail, and one or two will suffice for all illustration. 
The Moulin Rouge is somewhat sacred to scandalous 
suppers of both sexes, and the orgies accompanying; most 
respectable foreigners know nothing of it, and the veil may 
as well be allowed to lie as close as it will. Let us look 
for a moment, a little more nearly than is quite ordinary, 
at the Jardin Mabille, which may be taken as the type and 
crown of the public gardens of Paris, having much of their 
best and certainly much of their worst. 

Mabille, as readers as well as visitors know, lies in the 
farther-left or southwestern corner of the Champs Elysees, 
only a stone' s-throw from the Avenue at the Rond Point, 
and on the crossing Avenue Montaigne. It has a showily- 
lighted entrance, and costs a pretty penny (for a mere 
garden) on entering. Within, description fails as to the 
v/ealth of trees and shrubbery — the embowered arbors 
that surround the great central space in the midst of which 
stands the great pavilion for the orchestra — the narrow, 



SIDE-SHOWS. 241 

winding, sequestered walks in which being lost (intention- 
ally or otherwise) is the easiest thing in the world, two in 
company being no obstacle — the grottoes of rock arranged 
with colored lights, representing everything imaginary, 
from paradise to purgatory — the great circles and arches 
of lights surrounding all the principal entrances and exits, 
as if the whole was a building, columned and arched in 
flame — the multitude of flowers in colored glass, with the 
fire-jets within making something magnificently new 
and almost fearful in floriculture — the seats for repose 
and cafes for refreshment — everything thao can possibly 
minister to eye and taste and conduce to the temporary 
shutting away at once and completely of the outer world. 
But this, shadow as it is, is only Mabille as a bit of " still- 
life :" it is everything else than still-life, commonly, and 
especially as it was on that evening of the great summer 
fete when the Captain, Anna Maria and the Governor, 
overcame their scruples (the last named most particularly) 
and went to " do " it at leisure. Half Paris was there — 
Paris in the demi-monde^ Paris in the heau-m.onde^ Paris 
in the grande monde^ not much of Paris in the monde 
commune (for your Parisian oimrier goes seldom into 
haunts of dissipation, cheap or costly). Students and 
their companion grisettes, in large number; the former 
looking arrogant and careless, and the latter, seldom hand- 
Bome, but neat, modest and wifely, in spite — poor souls ! — 
of the well-known and inevitable future. Lorettes, of 
classes far below Anonyma and Olympia, (who seldom 
move without the carriage and state of princesses) — 
lorettes, lavish in the display of arm and bosom, but neat 
and rarely tawdry in dress, and with that indescribable 
something of grace in figure and carriage which goes no 
little way to redeem what would else be all abhorrent. 
" Fast men of Paris " — types of a class from which other 
cities are not quite free, and for whom a new word should 



242 PARIS IN '67. 

be coined in tbe dictionary of reprobation — faultlessly- 
moustached, fiiultlessly-clothed, hie7i gantee, only a trifle 
too much bejeweled, roue-eyed, searching, insolent — the 
very serpents of the human kingdom, at once the most 
useless and the most injurious of God's creation. Tlie 
more worn and harmless debauchees, with late hours, 
vinons indulgence, gambling and the other immoralities 
beginning to " tell " in crows-feet and stiffened lumbars. 
Young men — mere hoys, in any well-regulated society, 
capped, switched (not as they should have been, but in 
hand) and jaunty, taking one more lesson in the great 
school of attractive vice. Clergymen, their white cravats 

hidden under very unclerical garments (the Rev. 

, of ]N"ew York, who took so much pains to avoid me 



that night, need not flatter himself that his borrowed pal- 
etot deceived anybody, or that I shall forget the little 
rencontre, the next time that I hear him preach against 
*' the demoralizing theater," and the other " pomps and 
vanities of this sinful world.") Ladies of character and 
condition — some of the best wives, daughters and moth- 
ers in France or elsewhere, leaning on the arm of husband 
or fiance (no well-posted woman of character goes to 
Mabille without being unimpeachable in protection), and 
looking unharmed, as it would appear, on scenes that else- 
where would have covered them with most painful confus- 
ion. These, and yet lower types of both manhood and 
womanhood, for some of whom it is even difficult to find 
a designating name. A vast, moving, restless, vivacious, 
incongruous crowd, such as could not very well be found 
elsewhere than in Paris, and scarcely even there except at 
Mabille on the night of some one of the great fetes. A 
Btudy, full of amusement, and yet by no means unmixed 
with melancholy, and with reprobation of self and all con- 
cerned ! 

" I tell you what, Governor ! " remarked the Captain, at 



SIDE-SEOWS. 243 

one period, when the "demonstrations" as well as the 
people were " thickening " and the whirl of the maelstrom 
becoming more evident as to the vortex towards which it 
was tending — "I tell you what, Governor ! — are you quite 
sure that this place is respectable, for decent people and 
especially for ladies ? " (alluding to frightened Anna Maria, 
just then on his arm.) "Respectable!" echoed the Gov- 
ernor, " respectable ! — what a word to be used in Paris ! 
Sit down on this seat for fifteen minutes, and if I do not 
show you ten unimpeachable celebrities, five French or 
English men of rank, and at least two Americans beyond 
doubt as to standing — half of them with their ivives or 
other ladies in the true sense of the icord accompanying — 
then we will vote that the place is 7iot respectable, and 
leave at once !" 

The Captain and Anna Maria took their seats, and within 
the time specified they were shown all they had been prom- 
ised, with the addition that the male Americans were five, 
four of them accompanied by ladies, and two of them 
clergymen ! Even strict Anna Maria voted the affair 
respectable, then (at least for the time) and we stayed. 
Dii'ectly came into view Lawless, of the Pennsylvania coal 
regions and our run-over on the " City of Paris ;" and Law- 
less, in our very sight, fell under persecution and extricated 
himself from it with an energy worthy of Pittston. Mile. 
Fifine, of the Quartier Breda, attracted by Lawless's dash- 
ing appearance, laid her bien gantee little hand on the 
sleeve of his coat, and reaching up whisj^ered a few words 
of delicious French into his ear, that could not have been 
anything less tender than an invitation to 2l petite soiqjer at 
the Moulin Rouge or elsewhere. Many men, especially 
Americans, have fallen, under less temptation — surrendered 
to Delilah and been Sampson no longer. Lawless was 
equal to the occasion (perish the thought that it was 
because he saw acquaintances so near!) : he, who spoke six 



2M PARIS IF '67. 

languages indifferently well, and understood a dozen, 
straightened himself with overwhelming dignity, and 
hurled at her, with a face as blank as a stone wall : " Nein 
sprachen sie Deustcher ! " Mile. Fifiiie collapsed and 
recoiled. I think that she may well have done so when 
that pass had been reached that a native Parisian woman, 
talking her own original tongue, was understood to be 
speaking Dutch ! 

But the dancing. There was music sounding all the 
while from a full orchestra in the pavilion ; and dancing 
was going on at brief intervals, on various circles of the 
trodden earth at different distances around it. But who 
shall describe that dancing, especially when Mile. Fifine, 
thus rebuffed, joined three others, two male and one female, 
and the four commenced the bewitching cancan in a cleared 
circle of several yards, surrounded by an admiring and 
applauding crowd ! Even to eyes instructed as mine had 
previously been, in all the mysteries of the terpsichoreau 
art, from a Jersey break-down and an Irish jig, to the 
shuffle of the Southern darkey, the athletic leaps of the 
ballet-dancers and the fascinating contortions of Ellsler, 
Lamoureux and Cubas — even in those of the cancan itself 
as danced in less uproarious days than the present — even 
to my eyes the exhibition was somewhat novel, not to say 
startling. Words cannot portray the cancan in full flight, 
except to say that it is compounded of squat, wriggle, fling 
and squirm — and that when the artiste holds all her long 
hooped-skirts forward, tight en arricre^ giving full play to 
the limbs in a forward direction, and then throws both feet 
full in the face of the nearest spectator, kicking the cigar out 
of his mouth if he chances to be smoking, and suggesting 
that she is trying to jump out of her clothes, feet-foremost, 
the effect is at least refreshing. 

Anna Maria gave one glance at the crowning perform- 
ance, then whitened with fright, looked round inquiringly 



SIDE-SEOWS. 245 

at her companions, and finally narrowly escaped fainting. 
She liad not been used to such exhibitions, poor thing ! 
she had not yet been " educated." It is only justice to 
say, however, that she recovered, and " improved under 
tuition." So did another little American lady of our " City 
of Paris " company, who saw Mabiile a few days later, and 
afterward had occasion to comment upon the perform- 
ance, in one of the rooms of the Grand HoteL Some 
American friends had just arrived, and one of the ladies 
remarked that they were " going to Mabiile " that night. 
** I tell you — don't you go !" sagely suggested the accli- 
mated young lady, who might have been seventeen and in 
Paris for two weeks. " Why shouldn't I go ? you have 
been, and what is there that you can see and I cannot ?" 
demanded the other. To which the only reply was a more 
emj)hatic repetition of the previous warning : " Z tell yoic 
— donH you goP'' " 1:^0 w, I icill know what you mean by 
that !" said the other, half indignantly. " Why shouldn't 
I go, I should like to know, Miss Experience and Moral- 
ity ?" " I TELL YOU — don't tou GO !" replied the other, 
yet more emphatically — " 'cause, if you do go, you will 

WANT TO GO AGAIN !" 

But the more pronounced of the gayeties of Paris 
" side-shows " must have the go-by. There have been 
others of partially the same character, only less appe- 
tizing. Evening and cafe life in the Champs Elysees, 
under the trees, amid music and flowers, and in the midst 
of half a gathered world; promenade and cafe life on the 
Boulevards, the peculiarities of which I need not here 
repeat, but in which even mere distant readers know that 
the whole sense of brilliant variety is exhausted ; lounging 
and cafe life in the Bois de Boulogne, in which even 
Timon of Athens, if he remained hermit, would have 
ceased to be cynical ; book-worm and observer life around 
the Passage de I'Opera and the other old '' Passages " that 



246 PARIS IN '67. 

stud the Boulevards — and amid the innumerable shops 
grouped about the Palais Royal. Restaurant life, testing 
the qualities of foods and wines, and the probabilities of 
indigestion, from Very's and the Trois Freres, in the 
Palais Royal to Brebant, Tortoni's, and the Maison Doree 
on the Boulevards ; Yoisin's, on the Rue Faubourg St. 
Honore, and Philippe's on the Rue Montorgeuil — paying 
roundly at each, but learning all the while something 
more of the mysteries of French cookery and French 
society ; varying all this, too, with lounges in those ex- 
changes of Americanism, the cours cPhonneur of the 
Grand Hotel and the Grand Hotel du Louvre ; dropping 
round to Meurice and the Hotel du Bath, or Windsor, 
to see the grand arrivals, and possibly pick up an 
acquaintance ; or going over to England suddenly 
and cheaply, by just spending an hour with Outhwaite 
at table d'hote at the old Byron's Tavern on the Rue 
Favart, or dropping in at that rival resort of everything 
English southward of the channel, Hill's, on the Boule- 
vards. 

There is another and deeper life in Paris, albeit one of 
mere sight-seeing and the reflections thereby awakened. I 
have before spoken freely of it in another connection, and 
need only recall it here in a glimpse. To visit the churches 
of Paris — to stand amid the architectural glories of the 
Madeleine, and Notre Dame, and the Pantheon, and the 
human and architectural glories shrouded under the great 
dome of the Invalides ; to hear the human blackbirds cry 
at 'change-hour within that greatest of all exchanges, the 
Bourse ; to see what Frenchmen sell and Frenchmen eat, 
in the Halles Centrales and the other odd, queer, but 
interesting old markets of Paris; to stand within the 
Morgue and freeze over an interesting collection of sui- 
cides and other unfortunates ; to muse beside the Concier- 
gerie, the spot where stood the guillotine in the Place de 



8IDE-8H0WS. 247 

la Concorde, and that other and better-fed monster in the 
Place de Greve ; to wander through the wonderful art- 
collections of the LoQvre, and the equally wonderful art 
and curiosity collections of the Luxembourg Palace and 
the Hotel Cluny ; to pace beside the Seine, remember its 
world-long history, and smile at its insignificance ; to ven- 
ture into the Faubourg St. Antoine, drink in its wine- 
shops, make acquaintance with its bloused and bare-armed 
men and women, and stand beside the doubly-instructive 
Column of July in the Place de la Bastille ; to hear the 
choral service in ^N'otre Dame, remembering Napoleon's 
crowning the while, and that still finer in St. Roch, with 
half a fancy that the thunders of the Revolution are yet 
bursting overhead — these have been some of the " side- 
shows" of Paris, during the summer of '67, not much 
easier forgotten than the central event which attracted 
visitors in such numbers. 

And have these been all ? N"o, nor the half. Versailles, 
with its palace, pictures and park ; St. Germain, with its 
memories of a discrowned English king and its shut-up 
palace that is to be another imperial museum ; St. Cloud, 
with its glorious situation on the Seine, and its yet-more- 
glorious old forest; Vincennes, with its old tower, forest, 
rifle-firing, and historical recollections of Harry of Mon- 
mouth (emphatically 7iot the Governor) ; St. Denis, with 
its tombs of the kings and memories how troubled is 
sometimes the sleep of kings, even in death ; Pere la 
Chaise, with its ugliness, hundreds of great dead, and 
Abelard and Heloise — all these have been " side-shows," 
too — oh, how glorious, instructive and long to be remem- 
bered, to those who broke away long enough from the 
inner gayeties of the great capital, and took time, trouble 
and thought to see them properly ! 

One more word, and the last — a word of a " side-show," 
of which not too many Americans are advised, and one 
11* 



248 PARIS IK '6 7. 

that perhaps wonid not have been discovered by any one 
without a remaining "mercantile recollection." 

I found myself one day in the Rue de Bac, a commer- 
cial street of importance lying on the south side of the 
Seine, and not very far below the Exposition. I stopped a 
gentleman with a request for a light for my cigar, in bad 
French, and he answered m.e in English. I looked at him a 
second time, and recognized him, as he had before recogniz- 
ed me, — M , a well-known Franco- American who used to 

supply one of the most fashionable clientelles of supper-eaters 
and fancy-articles-buyers, on our own Broadway. " What 
are you doing here ? — visiting the Exposition ?" " Yes — 
and you ?" " Oh, I am in business here — see !" I saw a 
large old house that had been made marvelously larger by 
filling and management ; and I saw that it was called, or 
rather dedicated : " Au Bon Marche " (literally " to good 
bargains "), that its double fronts were on the Rue de Bac 
and the Rue de Sevres ; and there was something about it 
which immediately suggested, Jirst^ that the " Beehive " 
would have been a good name for it, and second, that it 
must fill something of the same place, to Parisians and 
many Americans, supplied here by the indispensable Lord 
and Taylor's, without which particular triple -barreled mag- 
azine of everything that everybody wants, I doubt whether 
New York would amount to much, after all ! Whereupon, 

and before proceeding further, I astonished M a little 

and hindered him a trifle, by falling into a brown study 
over the magnificent wilderness of articles kept in such 
places as that same New York Lord and Taylor's — think- 
ing what executive ability it must need to keep from 
going insane in the attempt to manage one of them — and 
wondering whether people always realize the convenience 
of first-class houses that sell everything one wants and 
everything reliably. 

I accompanied M into the " Bon Marche," was 



SIDE-SHOWS. 2j,9 

shown through it, so far as could be with five hundred 
clerks and two thousand bu3^ers in my way. Oddly 
enough, I found many of the buyers Americans, and that 
everybody else knew more of the place than I. What did 
I find there ? — ask me rather what I did not find there — 
I, and practical (because moneyed) Anna Maria, who fol- 
lowed me thither. There is a wide scope in the words 
" dry-goods " and " fancy-goods " — fill them up all the 
way, from silken cobwebs to burlaps, from shawls to san- 
dal-wood fans, and some faint idea may be formed of the 
fullest, busiest, best regulated mercantile establishment 
that I ever saw — the odder, because I have since heard 
that it is the only really-well-regulated establishment in all 
Paris. But if I had been astonished in that magazine of 
approachable fineries, what was I in the stables ! There 
is an old rhyme about 

" Forty horses in the stable," &c. 

and there I saw them, all groomed as so many race-horses 
might have been, with carriages and harness spotless as 
ever Victoria's went out from Windsor for a drive towards 
Frogmore, and all devoted to the conveyance of goods 
from the Bon Marche. Really a wonder, all this, in the 
way of mercantile enterprise, neatness, and general arrange- 
ment, with the evidences of a popularity quite as great as 
either. So I said that day, and so I repeat — that the Bon 
Marche, if among the last, is not among the least, of the 
" side-shows of Paris," and not among the least-profita- 
bly-interestiug to Americans. 

Here, bidding at last a regretful farewell to Paris as well 
as the Exposition, we pass to the few and brief excursions 
made possible by the visit — some preceding and others foU 
lowing the sojourns in the gay capital. 



XXL 

e:n"glish lake glimpses. 

Practical suggestions generally come from practical 
men ; but they do not always ignore the beautiful or the 
sentimental. Such, at least, I found to be the case with Mr. 
George H. W , head of one of the largest commer- 
cial and banking houses in Liverpool, or indeed in Eng- 
land, who had been running through the Southern portion 
of the United States, " taking stock," as I believe, of all 
the cotton likely to go upon the market, and who added 
no small amount to the pleasure of our June voyage east- 
ward on the " City of Paris." Running across the Irish 
channel towards Holyhead, on that last evening of our 
voyage, and speaking of bending directly from Livei-pool 
to London and Paris, it was a very happy suggestion that 
he made. " Why do you Mot go to the Cumberland Lakes, 
if you have never been there — now while you are so con- 
veniently near them, at Liverpool ?" Why not ? — there 
was no " why not :" the only thing was that without the 
suggestion that pilgrimage might again have been " defer- 
red," like many another thing laid over until unattainable. 

Mr. W 's hint bore speedier fruit than such things 

often bear. At Liverpool in the gray of the morning, and 
landed at nine — on the afternoon of the same day we were 
speeding away — the C,^ptain, Anna Maria, and the Governor 
— by the upper branch of the London and N"orth west- 
ern, for the very few hours that could be spared at Win- 



EITOLISH LAKE GLIMPSES. 251 

dermere and its peudant lakes. Once more through and 
among the hedged fields and " green lanes of Merrie Eng- 
land," in the glory of leafy and flowery June, with the 
Captain (an American agriculturist of no mean experi- 
ence) radiant with pleasure at his first ghmpses of English 
rural scenery and English farming thrift ; and with Anna 
Maria, not much instructed in the products of the earth, 
beyond those displayed at Central Park and in the mar- 
kets, clapping hands like a school-girl at sudden glimpses 
of hedged road and cozy valley and coy little river, and 
sometimes audibly wishing that Simpson, evidently the ob- 
ject of an absorbing afiection, could only be there to enjoy 
the ride with her. (Not very flattering, this latter, to 
either the Captain or the Governor, both of whom had an 
idea that they were not to be undervalued as fellow-travel- 
ers ; but I may as well say, here, that later in their pro- 
gress they learned to bear the frequent recall of Simpson's 
name with equanimity, and to be as little jealous as was 
consistent with the habitual ignoring of two present men 
for one absent.) 

Geographically, some of the readers of this chronicle 
may need to be told that Windemrere in about one hun- 
dred miles north and a little west of Liverpool, over South 
and Korth Lancashire and a part of Cumberland, on the 
borders of Westmoreland ; and, practically, that it is 
reached by the London and Northwestern Railway from 
Liverpool, to Oxenholme on the Carlisle branch of that 
road, and then by the Kendal and Windermere spur to 
Windermere, much of the transit being made through some 
of the loveliest rural scenery of the West of England, 
with varying glimpses of the thousand furnace-chimneys, 
smoke and grime, of Preston, Wigan, Lancaster, and other 
towns where they weave coarse cloths, " depot " coal, and 
smelt iron. Amid all this smoke and grime of the towns, 
meanwhile, there is much of beauty ; and I have yet to see 



252 PARIS IN '67. 

a lovelier little bit of pleasure-ground of its size than that 
which girds the little river by Preston, in Lancashire, — - 
a fact which may or may not prove that the weavers of 
that bustlins: old town weave fancies as well as linens. 

A delicious ride, and yet a wearily long one, simply he- 
cause we had been led to suppose it so much shorter. The 
country roughened, from the Genesee Valley Midland-Eng- 
land semblance, to the likeness of New England, with a 
dash of Western New York, as we rolled on northward — 
still no prospect of our goal; and we certainly should 
have made a night-ride of what had promised to be only 
an afternoon and early-evening excursion — ^but for a little 
habit which the sun seems to have contracted in that lati- 
tude, of never setting ! Perhaps I may be hasty in saying 
"never" — "almost never" would possibly be a better 
phrase ; all that I know positively, on the subject, is that 
after various dodgings about among and pretending to set 
behind sundry hills rising and disappearing in the West, 
we finally lost sight of the old fellow, in good condition 
and not a whit sleepy-looking, in the warm mists of the 
Cumberland hills, at precisely 9.30 p. m. ! — a pretty time 
for sunset, to an eye educated anywhere south of Labra- 
dor! That it probably did not set at all, but merely hung 
in wait, up in the air, for next day, seems evidenced by 
the fact that we read ordinary print, that night, if night it 
was, in front of the Windermere Hotel, at 11.30 ; that the 
Captain found daylight-at-uight so abnormal that he fell 
into the habit of sleeping in the day-time instead, as the 
duskier of the two periods ; and that Anna Maria had light 
enough for a surreptitious peep into the looking-glass in 
her chamber, at two o'clock in the morning ! 

Once, before the ride was completed, the vivacious little 
lady astonished geography and the Governor by discover- 
ing Windermere under unexpected circumstances. The 
upper end of the road bears very near the Irish Channel at 



EN'GLISE LAKE GLIMPSES. 253 

certain points ; and wben Duddon Sands came into view, 
with their twenty or thirty miles of shoal water, a dozen in 
breadth, dotted with sail-vessels creeping lazily away to- 
ward Duddon Mouth and the Channel — then there was 
the blended feeling of a tired woman in the exclamation : 
*' There is your "Windermere, now, and glad enough I am 
to see it ; but, good gracious ! — where are the mountains 
they talked about ? — and who thought that it had schoon- 
ers on it and emptied into the ocean ?" 

Shall I not tell, too, of a lesson in orthography which 
was at nearly the same time set by the same authority for 
the youth of all England. I have already said that the 
Kendal and Windermere spur of the L. & K. W. takes 
the Lake passengers at Oxenholme on the Carlisle branch ; 
but it is painfully doubtful whether even the scholars at 
the junction know how to spell the name of their town. 
They shall know hereafter, thanks to the educational 
institutions of New York. " What place is this ?" asked 
the Captain, as the train stopped to make the transfer. 
" Oxenholme," replied Anna Maria, who chanced to be 
looking out of the window, and saw the station-sign. 
" Oxen- what ? how do they spell it ?" again asked the 
Captain. " Why, easily enough — with a ' ho,' and a 
* hex,' and a ' he,' and a ' hen,' and a ' haitch,' and another 
' ho,' and a ' hel,' and a ' hem,' and a ' he,' " was the satis- 
factory rejoinder of the lady, who certainly deserved to 
" go up head " in her class. 

At last, in spite of the atrocities of both sun and 
daughter, the mountains of Cumberland consented to lift 
themselves in the West, a shapely range of blue hills, 
with height and distant outlines something like those of 
the lower Catskills; anon a gleam of silver lay among 
them, clear, calm, and beautiful, under the last western 
glow, and this was Windermere indeed. Half an hour 
later we had disembarked at the little station which seems 



254 PARIS IK '67. 

so out of place amid such peaceful antique rurality, and 
were quietly eating our supper of lake-trout and berries in 
a charming little dining-room of the Windermere Hotel, 
with the finest of out-looks over that loveliest of little 
band-box lakes lying liquid silver under that wonderful 
boreal evening-light, and the bold rugged mountains west- 
ward toward Helvellyn and Skiddaw forming a magnifi- 
cent background to the vision. And then I realized that 
the beauty of even a favorite tourist-resort may be under- 
rated as well as the opposite — that Windermere is really 
one of the very gems on the fair bosom of nature. 

To no spot of the world's surface, perhaps, has human 
genius paid more abiding tribute, in residence and remark, 
than the region about the lakes of Cumberland. Kit 
North, Dr. Arnold, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Mrs. Hemans, 
Martineau — how their names come up at the mention of 
Windermere, Rydal, Ambleside, and Grasmere ! And 
how we realized something of the sadness of genius de- 
parted, as well as the glory of its presence, wandering 
through the melancholy shades of the plantation, imme- 
diately in the rear of our hotel, on the hill rising behind 
it — where stands the plain stone dwelling in which Profes- 
sor Wilson spent many of the latter years of his life ; 
quiet and beautiful yet, but missing his broad, genial face, 
and in the hands of strangers ! 

But the next day — all that our haste could afford to the 
whole pilgrimage — that next day, the night of which must 
see us again within sight of St. George's Hall at Liver- 
pool — how much of beauty and sensation had that next 
day hidden away among its few hours ? For had we not 
one of Rigg's herquinets, with a genial, broad-spoken 
Cumberland driver, to make the usual round of hasty 
travelers, of that heart-of-England's loveliness, sanctified 
by the presence of so much of her talent ? And were we 
not a little dizzied, as a result, with so much of natural 



EITGLISH LAKE GLIMPSES. 255 

beanty and not a little man-worship, all compressed into 
so brief a space, till the whole thing seemed like a pleas- 
ant dream from which it was the shame of shames to be 
awakened ? 

Oh, how lovely was that drive np the east side of 
Windermere, on its very banks ! with the weather perfec- 
tion; the atmosphere a blending of sunshine and soft 
golden mist ; the calm water dotted here and there with 
row-boats and sail-boats, filled with pleasure-seekers ; 
coaches for and from Keswick, and light open carriages 
bearing more exigeant tourists, darting along the dustless, 
scarless pikes of concrete, through the winding, stone- 
walled and hedged lanes; with old, ivy-grown, white- 
walled stone cottages, lattice- win do wed, shade-hidden and 
flower-enameled, peeping everywhere ; with Wray Castle 
lifting its turrreted pinnacles on the opposite shore ; with 
the Head of Coniston bounding the view westward, and 
the craggy peaks of Wandsfell and Lanfell Pikes barring 
the prospect far ahead ; and all the peculiarities of the 
most beautiful of days in the most charming of lake- 
countries. 

Then came Lowood Hotel, to the right, on the very 
shore of the lake; aiid, just beyond it, across a field, 
and bowered in trees, peeped out Dove's l^est, a 
quiet gabled house, where Felicia Hemans wrote many 
of her last poems and went to the reward of a blame- 
less life. Then, a little beyond, came Wandsfell House, 
with its manorial bearing and many Elizabethan gables ; 
and directly broke out Ambleside Water-Head, again 
on the shore of the lake, its beach crowded with 
dainty row-boats, its cottages antique, shaded and com- 
fortable-looking ; the round, extinguisher-shaped, pointed 
tower of its church showing over the village proper, 
farther to the right. The very name seemed to breathe 
of Wordsworth, Coleridge^ and rhyme stu-ring only the 



256 PARIS IN '67. 

quieter emotions. Yet a moment later, and, still to 
the right, the Yale of Rydal opened, with its still 
stronger reminder of the former poet, Fairfield Peak 
bounding the view ahead, and half way up the hill which 
swelled eastward from the little singing burn (river) 
Wrothoy, a somewhat pretentious, starched-looking man- 
sion, bearing the name of the Knowe, and now and for 
many years the residence of Miss Harriet Martineau, the 
smart old spinster, who, after becoming world-celebrated, 
has finally settled down to be the guide-book-maker of the 
Lake District. 

We were rapidly ascending, then, toward the top of 
Red Bank, over Grasmere, with Brathow Water and the 
little church of the same name, both quiet and beau- 
tiful, away in the valley to the left ; with Loth Peak lift- 
ing its rugged brow to the right ; with Skelworth hamlet 
sleeping like a flock of sheep at the foot of the hills still 
beyond ; a rustic gate, with a wood-and-iron-shod little 
girl to open it ; an old woman going by in a basket-phae- 
ton, drawn by a' pony not much larger than an ordinary 
Newfoundland dog; a Keswick coach dashing by, with 
its " Y. R." and crown, horses three abreast, and all the 
passengers outside ; and — 

Stop ! for that was what we did, precisely. There were 
such splendid climbing roses all over the doorway of the 
white-walled Westmoreland cottage we were just passing, 
and Anna Maria (who ought never to be allowed to plead 
for anything — ask Simpson!) Anna Maria wanted a rose. 
So the Governor overcame his natural modesty, invaded 
the sanctity of the cottage, unearthed the gray-haired and 
wooden-clogged old Westmorelandman, with his broad, 
west-country 2^cctois, and genuine heartiness, — robbed liis 
rose-bushes, gave him a shilling (which probably belonged 
to some one else), shook hands with him, blarneyed him, 
and generally conducted himself with such impropriety 



ENGLISH LAKE GLIMPSES. 257 

that Westmoreland will surely be ashamed of the recol- 
lection, indefinitely. But we had the roses, and some of 
them may have been in America before they had withered 
entirely — who knows. And Anna Maria was delighted ; 
and the Captain was thinking, though he was too modest 
to say so, of his own lawn and gardens at home ; and we 
bowled along up Red Bank — oh, so merrily ! — aching 
though some of the hearts in the little berquinct may have 
been, for yet dearer eyes to look upon scenery so new and 
so excitingly unreal to a gazer from beyond the Atlantic. 

A little further, and Loughrig Tarn lay bosomed 
between the hills to the right — a perfect little sheet of 
glassy water, on which the wind seemed never to have 
raised a ripple since the morning of creation ; while above 
it, near the top of Red Bank, the mansion of High Close, 
many-gabled and one of the most commanding in the 
section, spoke of costly luxury in the midst of rural sim- 
plicity. Peaks seemed all around us, here, all more or less 
rugged, all bare of foliage, except at their bases, but all 
swathed in green verdure, except where the crags broke 
through and threw in a shade of relieving gray. oSTo where 
— scarcely even in those two twilight boxes, the Profile 
House plateau at the ISTew Hampshire Franconia, and the 
Kittatinny at the Delaware Water-Gap — is there a spot 
apparently so shut in from the world. And then a little 
additional rise, and there came the first peep up the Yale 
of Langdale, beyond comparison, thus far, the finest group- 
ing of rugged mountain-peaks behind and among each 
other, that had ever fallen under my mountain-loving eye ; 
while the golden-misted morning light seemed to fill every 
depression witli radiance, and to bring the softest possible 
relief to each summit duskily supporting and foiling the 
other. " One of the very finest mountain glimpses in all 
memory, in any land !" I said, as we reined for a moment 
at the precise spot for fixing the view in memory j and yet 



258 PARIS IN '67. 

within five minutes I had forgotten nearly every feature 
of the Yale of Langdale, for that five minutes brought us 
to the top and the steep eastern descent of Red Bank, and 
opened to us the view over Grasmere. 

Perhaps I have already demonstrated my right to be 
called a silly enthusiast in scenery ; and, after exhausting 
nearly all the adjectives in the language, it is not very easy 
to find new ones for every new delight. But certainly I 
must take the risk of saying that Grasmere, that morning, 
was the loveliest rural vale I ever saw — no feature want- 
ing, and every detail perfect for the creation of an earthly 
paradise, not even genius lacking to complete the wondrous 
combination. At our feet, eastward, slept the little lake, 
Grasmere itself, perhaps a mile or two in length and half a 
mile in width, only a shade less quiet and unrippled than 
Loughrig Tarn — in its centre a little island of one or two 
hundred feet in circumference, with a group of tall, straight- 
boled trees at the nearer end, the very ideal for a goal for 
lovers' rowing on moonlight nights (and where the driver 
took pride in informing us that His Royal Highness the 
Prince of Wales once performed the sportsmanlike feat of 
chasing a hlacJc sheep to cover !) Beyond the lake, almost 
at the shore, the sweet little hamlet of Grasmere, its 
white-walled and ivy-wreathed cottages lovingly kissed by 
the warming sunlight, and, in the midst, little old Grasmere 
church, thrusting up its square tower, and giving a sad 
reminder that in it Wordsworth had worshiped, and that 
its shadows then fell upon his grave. Yet beyond the great 
hills rose, looming darkly, as if frowning away intruders 
from so sweet a scene, farthest of all the broad shoulders 
and curved brow of Helvellyn, third of the English moun- 
tain giants, shutting away Skiddaw and Scawfell, and 
making them yet a reserve for a second pilgrimage ; while 
round to the east and southeast swept away the thin 
silver line of Rydal Water, by which we were so soon to 



ENGLISH LAKE GLIMPSES. 259 

pass near the old home of "Wordsworth, and on our back- 
ward, ride to Windermere. 

A quiet, lovely, irreproachable rural and sylvan scene, 
which may well have made the Bard of Rydal even more 
low-toned and contemplative than he would otherwise 
have been — which will linger in memory as a culmination 
of all that is fiiiishedly-beautiful in nature, with no feature 
wanting and none obtruded — but one of which, of course, 
I have failed to give any idea, simply because I have been 
so anxious to enable some of my dear absentee friends to 
view it through my temporarily-luckier eyes. 

But it may be believed that the feeling of sacred beauty 
did not wear away when, half an hour later, descending 
the vale, we stood beside the old church of Grasmere, a 
few hundreds of feet from the lake and in the very centre 
of the quiet picture — beside the old church and the grave 
of the man who has done more than all others to make the 
Lake Country a pilgrimage. I say " old," of the church, 
advisedly ; for though modern hands have repaired it, the 
queer, double arch of whitewashed rough stones, running 
up in the centre and supporting the peak, is undeniably 
of days before the Conquest, and tells of the uncouth 
chisel of the Saxon. Around the rough, bare walls and on 
the lower section of the central arch hang the painted 
escutcheons of some of the gentry families of the neighbor- 
hood ; but the attention of the visitor is mainly concen- 
trated upon two or three objects that have nothing to do 
with any other distinction than that of the brain and the 
soul. The first of these is a very old stone font, near the 
upper or western end of the church, now crumbling with 
age, and from which all the members of the Wordsworth 
family are said to have been baptised ; and the next, and 
yet more important, is one of the square, high-backed pews, 
near the chancel, and yet conveniently within sound of the 
voice in the pepper-box pulpit — the pew bearing the 



260 ' PARIS IN' '67. 

inscription on the door-plate: *' Rydal Mount, 13," and 
that in which William Wordsworth sat in the corner and 
listened for so many years to the Word of Life. I do not 
know that I am any the better or richer for the act, but I 
certainly followed the example of Anna Maria and the 
Captain, and sat down in the old man's seat and thought 
how necessary it was to be good 2iS well as notable^ if one 
would leave behind an aroma pleasant to the senses of 
future generations. I stood for a moment in the old pulpit, 
too, and read aloud a few words to which the heavy Bible 
opened with singular appropriateness : " Blessed are the 
dead who die in the Lord ; * * for they rest from their 
labors, and their works do follow them ;" but I seemed to 
hear a reproachful voice from the empty pew, that unhal- 
lowed lips were speaking in a sacred place, and so desisted 
with but the single sentence. 

There is a bust of the poet in bas-relief, inside the church 
and near the door, showing a placid and rather weak-look- 
ing bald head and long face, in advanced age ; but his 
grave is without, in the rear of the church and near the 
southeastern corner of the church-yard, shaded by one of 
the delicate-leaved tropical trees (I do not know the name) 
in which he so delighted ; while over the grave runs a 
beautiful little flowering vine, in the bringing away of a 
sprig of which I hope that I did not commit any desecra- 
tion. The poet does not sleep alone ; for on the same 
modest, low, sharp-pointed dark head-stone on which stands 
the record : " William Wordsworth, died 1850," is also in- 
scribed the name of his w^ife and the date of her decease, 
nine years later ; " Mary Wordsworth, died 1859." Near 
them, in equally modest graves, sleep Catharine, Thomas, 
and William, children of the pair so happily joined in 
death as in life ; and within six feet of Wordsworth's 
grave, at its head and toward the church, a much more 
pretentious stone, with an open cross within a circle, and 



ENGLISH LAKE GLIMPSES. 261 

church-text inscription, shows the resting-place of poor 
Hartley Coleridge, at one time so promising a rival of his 
distinguished father, in the world of letters. Others than 
myself, I fancy, share in an error which only that day 
corrected for me — that Samuel Taylor Coleridge himself 
sleeps at Grasmere, when in fact he is buried many miles 
away, though still in the Lake Country — at Keswick, in 
Cumberland. 

Our way back to Windermere, on that memorable day, 
after a halt at the pretty little Prince of Wales Lake 
House, on the very edge of the mere and charmingly 
gardened — lay beside Rydal Water, a grassy mere much 
more diminutive than Grasmere, but almost as beautiful ; 
under the shadow of Nabscaur (eastward) a craggy 
peak of rare wild beauty, sheltering ivy-grown old Nab 
Cottage, bearing its quaint date of " 1702," and sacred as 
the place where Hartley Coleridge spent his last days and 
died. Here, in the midst of some of the loveliest shaded 
grounds that even Western England can boast, there was 
a view at a little distance to the left and on somewhat 
higher ground (no nearer access was attainable without 
trouble and much delay), of the gray ivied front and 
respectable plain gable of Rydal Mount, from which 
Wordsworth had sent out so many words shaped into forms 
of quiet grace — scarcely to stir the world, but certainly to 
make it better, more patient and more loving. 

We were then upon the skirts of Ambleside village 
proper, lying on the edge of Windermere — very old and 
quaintly beautiful as well as evidently thriving ; with its 
narrow, winding, shaded streets, kept as cleanly as if each 
had been part of a gentleman's pleasance — its antique, 
ivy-grown cottages, pretty shops that seemed to be needed 
and patronized, and clustering hotels thronged with 
pleasure-seekers at the doors and halted coaches without. 
Going toward Grasmere we had passed the lake side of 



262 PARIS IK '67. 

this gem of villages, and now we were on tlie other or in- 
land border, and the two views joined in a fascination not 
easy to convey in words but the most natural of sensations 
to experience amid such scenery. I have been selecting 
some dozen of places, here and there, in some one of which 
to locate my " Sabine farm" in that golden day when end- 
less toil amid the crowd shall no longer be needed to win 
daily bread. Each is for some special mood that may 
then be my prevailing condition ; and let it be recorded, 
here, that if I shall then have chanced to reach the point 
of desiring to be quietly, lazily, dreamily, world-forgettingly 
happy, with not a rough sensation to stir my late-found 
Quaker placidity — theu, and only then, I shall certainly 
choose Ambleside, the very loveliest little English country- 
village of them all — the incarnation of that sweet rural 
quiet which England possesses in larger measure than 
any other country on the globe : which America can 
admire but will be neither able, nor willing to imitate with- 
in the next five hundred years. 

We drove away from the wooing shades of Ambleside 
regretfully, pausing a moment more to catch a nearer view 
of Miss Martineau's prim residence, and to hear the chiming 
of the bells, just striking the hour, in the little village 
church thrusting up its taper spire so near. And just then, 
when we were looking back upon the shady lanes of one 
side of the village and the lovely shore and gliding boats 
of Ambleside Water-Head girding the other — just then 
there came a glimpse which seemed to have been sent to 
complete what would otherwise have been only nearly 
perfect. Up from Bowness, at the head of the lake, for 
Ambleside at its foot, came a little steamer, not much larger 
than a toy, but large enough for the waves it was likely to 
encounter — gay with tourists and pleasure-seekers who 
waved handkerchiefs and behaved like school-children, 
while the atom of boat mimicked its sea-going sisters in the 



ENGLISH LAKE GLIMPSES. 263 

noisy pomp of marine progress, as if it knew that it was 
filling a picture. 

So it was that we rode back by the shore of Windermere 
to the Windermere Hotel, catching raid-day light on all 
that we had before seen under the-cooler shadows of morn- 
ing ; eye, ear, soul, sense, all full of the wondrous indescrib- 
able beauty of the sweetest of June days among the most 
charming of shaded, rose-bordered scenery; well aware 
that we had caught only " glimpses," and those too few, of 
the Lake Country, but richer by a happy memory if we 
should never again set foot within it, and by a pleasant 
introduction in the event of some possible future pilgrimage. 
12 



xxn. 

"SENT TO COVENTRY;" WITH PEEPS AT KENIL- 
WORTH AND WARWICK. 

I WAS " sent to Coventry," literally, as I suppose that I 
have long ago been consigned to that nice old place in other 
aspects. " When you go to Stratford and the other Shak- 
speare neighborhoods, don't miss Coventry, which you will 
find to be an old town beating your Chester hollow ; and 
you will discover that they all come in, in a circle " — so 
said an old traveler to me, before leaving America ; and he 
it was who, after doing as much as any other living man 
to keep me " out of Coventry," finally dispatched me 
thither ! 

No matter how or when we came to Birmingham ; or 
through what wildernesses of smoking foundry-chimneys, 
with red furnaces glowing beneath them, and the whole 
surrounding country seeming one chaos of refuse ore, 
uptorn earth and desolation, with Dudley Castle frowning 
ruinously from its embowered height in the very midst, 
like a grim old broken-down aristocrat too closely pressed 
upon by a set of unpleasant and dirty through thrifty 
canaille^ and supplying, they say, a wonderful view over the 
fire-vomiting iron-country at night, — no matter through 
what of all these we came by Wolverhampton and ap- 
proached the great depot of the bogus and Brummagem in 
manufacture ; or whether the waiter at the Queen's did or 



''SEN'T TO C OVEJSfTRY,'' 265 

did not finally allow himself to bring me my under-done 
steak after an hour of waiting for something decently 
cooked ; or whether my traveling-companions and myself 
consented or refused to adopt the peculiar Birmingham fash- 
ion of walkino^ in the middle of the street and io-norino- 
the sidewalk altogether ; or whether we took pencil 
sketches of the Corn Market and the Town Hall — really the 
only two handsome buildings in Birmingham, the former 
modern French and very tasteful, and the latter a rough 
Parisian Madeleine disfigured by being placed on a heavy 
Norman stone lower-story ; or whether we did or did not 
make extensive contracts among the doubtful wares, from 
iron to the very finest brass, with which Birmingham 
seems to be overlaid as pinchbeck watches are sometimes 
plated with silver — the shop-windows glittering with 
everything cheaply tempting and purchasable, from but- 
tons and breastpins to blacksmiths' bellows ; or whether 
there w^as enough, or only partially enough, of penny-whis- 
tle locomotives rolling in and out that long station imme- 
diately under the Queen's, to make sleep easy and comfort- 
able, on the night w^hen we tabernacled there ; — no mat- 
ter for all or any of these things, I say : one morning we 
found ourselves going from Birmingham to Coventry, 
and eventually* after being carried off to Leamington 
through a locked railway-carriage door and a few stupid 
porters, set down at the station of old Coventry itself 

One immortality is generally sufficient for a single town, 
but Coventry has two, being made sacred by two flashes 
of genius, ages apart — the one, that Shakspeare's Falstaff 
(in " King Henry the Fouith ") " would not march through 
Coventry with 'em!" when mustering his terrible recruits 
that were never matched until Colonel Billy Wilson en- 
listed his Zouaves ; the other that Tennyson (whose poetry 
I have a bad habit of not admiring, but who certainly cov- 
ered himself with glory in " Godiva,") 



266 PARIS /iV '6 7. 

" "Watted for the train at Coventry, 
And hung with grooms and porters on the bridge, 
To watch the three tall spires ; and there * shaped 
The city's ancient legend .■" 

The "bridge" is an arched one of stone, crossing a lit- 
tle gulley in the immediate vicinity of the railway station 
by which we approached the town, — a place where 
" grooms " and " porters " and expectant passengers would 
naturally "hang" while waiting for habitually-delayed 
trains ; and going on it to observe the fact, I found that 
the "three tall spires," round, high, pointed and almost 
identical in form as seen from that distance, had nearly an 
appearance of being eqai-distant and were singularly 
effective from that point and cause. 

Thenceforth I think that I was better prepared for the 
Coventry that 1 found, than I could otherwise have been 
by any other preparation than such an approach ; for the 
mediseval came to me with the bridge and its associations, 
and certainly nowhere upon earth is a full appreciation of 
the moyen age more necessary than in that picturesque 
old town which forms the heart of Warwickshire. 

A glorious old town of narrow winding streets and 
peaked gables — some of the houses overlapping each other 
more and more at every higher story, until the two op- 
posite neighbors cannot be separated more than three or 
ibur feet at top ; and the strange slat-and-plaster arch- 
itecture (timber posts, beams, sills and diagonal braces, 
and rough-cast brick filling) of all the centuries from the 
thirteenth to the seventeenth, represented more plentifully 
and even more beautifully than in my favorite Chester, with 
one or two exceptions in the old Derby Palace and God's- 
Providence House of the latter. It cannot be expected 
that I should be able to designate localities, after but a sin- 
gle day's visit ; but all such old towns have an ancient 
centre — on the Continent generally a fountain, in England 



"■SENT TO COVENTRY.''' 267 

commonly a cross, past or present — around which the 
oldest buildings and associations cUister; and the heart of 
old Coventry lies at and around what was once the mar- 
ket-cross, now simply a broad but irregular open space 
terminating what I think they call the High street, with the 
grouped churches in the immediate neighborhood and the 
" shopping " centre of the town in corresponding proxim- 
ity. Standing there and looking in any direction, and 
walking only a few yards to gaze up some of the narrow, 
winding, upper-story-darkened alleys, with the shops ap- 
parently yet older than the houses and the people some- 
how carrying a greater air of antiquity than either — one 
gets such a peep at Midland England of the olden time as 
dwellers on the newer side of the Atlantic can scarcely 
realize from any description. And one wants to have the 
power of taking up a few of these old houses, intact and 
witli all the care and reverence due to advanced age, trans- 
porting them beyond the ocean, and seasoning with them 
the somewhat staring modernism of the very Kew World. 
I think that one or two of the oldest and most picturesque 
of the Coventry houses, or some yet older and finer that I 
saw a little later at continental Strasbourg, set down and 
glass-cased as shows in the Central Park, Boston Common, 
or Independence Square, might do at least something to 
prevent the tearing down of every American house before 
it has seen fifty years, under the idea that it must be a 
worthless shell by that time. I am not too sanguine, how- 
ever; for I remember the ]N'ew York Walton House a 
beer-shop, the Burns Cofiee House torn down to make 
room for piled lumber and dry-goods-boxes, and the Han- 
cock House swept away from the fashionable thoroughfare 
of a city (Boston) that really did pretend to honor the 
antique; and after these instances, who shall say that one 
of these glorious old relics of Middle-age England, trans- 
ported to America, would not be an oven-shed within the 



268 PARIS IN '67. 

first twelvemonth, and fire-wood and dock-filling within the 
next ? 

It is only a little distance down one of the lateral streets 
branching at the market-cross, that old St. Michael's (one 
of the " three tall spires ") shoots np high and clear into 
the summer sky, its elaborate architecture crumbling with 
the wash and wear of six or seven hundred years, statues 
fallen, points gone and edges rounded by the slow decay — 
while within medisBval gloom and sombre beauty seem 
fighting for predominance, with none of the kneeling wor- 
shippers of the continental Catholic churches to complete 
the picture. Kear it, St. Mary's Hall reveals some won- 
drously fine old sculptures in both wood and stone, and 
shows how both the materials may mellow as well as crum- 
ble beneath the fingers of time. But I caught myself 
turning away from both, and even from the strawberries 
with which Anna Maria was continually tempting both her 
abstemious companions (and they were certainly some of 
the largest, finest and most luscious that I have ever seen 
in any land) — turning away even from these, I say, to 
bathe my eyes and soul in that wealth of old houses — very 
old houses — time-worn, weather-beaten, crumbling, pictur- 
esque, lovely old houses ! 

N. B. I am not clear as to the comfort and convenience 
of living in any of those " A^ery old houses," in Coventry 
or elsewhere : they may lack " modern conveniences," for 
all that I know to the contrary ; they may have leaky I'oofs 
and be infested by rats, cockroaches and other vermin. 
What I insist upon is that they are very pretty adjuncts 
to scenery, very interesting reminders of the past, and that 
I want them, like sheep in a pasture or trees in a vista, to 
looh at and talk about. 

" Where is Peeping Tom ?" I think that question was 
asked by one and another of us, twenty times before direc- 
tion showed us what was all the while in plain sight ; for 



''SENT TO G OVEI^TRY.'' 269 

to go to Coventry and come away without seeing Peeping 
Tom, would be the most disgraceful of " Hamlets " without 
a Prince. We found him at last, however — a queer old 
image with leering eyes, cocked hat and a soldier's armor, 
still sticking headforemost partially out of a third-story 
window on a corner of the main street, not far from the 
market-cross. I have an indistinct idea that some of the 
Coventry people said that the location was on Hertford 
street, at the corner of Smithford. At all events, the old 
fellow leered out, as they say that he has done, in solid oak, 
once and again repainted, for at least five or six hundred 
years ; and I found the Coventry people as determined 
believers in him, in Lady Godiva herself, and all concerned 
in the legend, as are the Edinburghers in Jeanie Deans, or 
the Yirffinians in Pocahontas. And I found them holdino^ 
religiously, too, to the fact of the tailor having been 
stricken stone-blind for his deed of meanness, and slow to 
receive the Governor's little story, that Tom was advised 
of his fate beforehand, by a wizard companion, but declared 
his intention to " go one eye on the peep, anyway !" and 
did so, losing his one eye as the penalty. 

There does really seem to be some reason for believing 
that Lady Godiva once existed, and even that she rode 
through Coventry naked, to relieve the people of some 
peculiar vassalage. There was certainly a Leofric Earl of 
Mercia, in the twelfth century, and a Countess Godiva, 
his wife ; and the Earl certainly did great benevolences to 
his people, for love of and through the intercession of his 
lady. So much is history ; and the legendary part seems 
to have been begun very long ago, even if it had no foun- 
dation. The great Summer Fail's of Coventry began so 
far back as 1217, under grant from Henry the Third ; and 
it is well known that Henry the Sixth went there especially 
to attend one, in 1455 ; that Henry the Eighth, accompan- 
ied by Catharine of Braganza, did likewise in 1510, and 



270 PARIS IJSr '67. 

Mary in 1525; though there does not appear to be any- 
positive proof that the Lady Godiva was ever carried in 
procession until 1678, in Charles the Second's time, when 
the spectacle of an apparently-naked woman riding through 
the streets may well have been considered a new boon to 
a dissolute as^e. 

Immense splendors seem to have been attached, first and 
last, to the GodiA^a pageant, which brought at once pleasure 
and profit to the country shop-keepers. The civic bodies, 
trade and benevolent societies, vast bodies of citizens and 
strangers, with the elephant and castle (the city arms), 
flags, banners, knights in armor, mock-bishops, jesters and 
all the concomitants of a popular procession, appear to have 
passed through Coventry, every few years, in honor of the 
beautiful myth or the more glorious reality of self-sacri- 
ficing womanhood. The last, thus far, was held on 
Monday, the 23d of June, 1862, with a stupendous display, 
the elephant loaned from Womb well's menagerie; and 
Lady Godiva, resplendent in white cambric fleshings, half 
covered with a wig of false fair hair descending to her 
knees, her head crowned with the waving plumes of a 
princess, and riding a spotless white charger richly capari- 
soned, personated by a lady somewhat ambiguously desig- 
nated as "Madame Letitia, from the Royal Academy, 
Trafalgar Square, London." 

Ah, well, in spite of the immorality of all such things, I 
should have liked to see that portion of the Coventry Show 
Fair in which Godiva rode " in the flesh." So I think 
would Anna Maria ; I am doubtful about the Captain, who 
has his own opinions. I saw the Coventry Fair, but not 
the Fair, the " Coventry and Midland Fair and Exhibition," 
in full glory, the odd old streets blocked with odder articles 
on exhibition and sale, from reaping and seeding machines 
and the fruits and flowers in which Warwickshire seemed 
just then to be pleasantly smothered, to the cheap bijou- 



''SEKT TO GOVEKTRT.'" 27l 

terie of Birmingham and the elegant trifles of the skilful 
Coventry silk-weavers ; the narrow ways gay with wreathed 
arches and fluttering with flags, bannerols, and streamers ; 
the streets full of a rural as well as a civic population, 
aflbrding an endless study of wholesome faces with not a 
few pretty ones, quaint costumes, broad speech and general 
jollity. If we did not see the Godiva Fair it is certain 
that we saw and enjoyed the next best thing after it ; and 
it will be long, I think, before either of us forgets the 
June sunshine, the June fruits and June roses, which 
seemed to blend with the waving flags and the smiling 
faces, to wreathe an atmosphere of peculiar delight around 
memorable old Coventry! 

Then what a glorious open-carriage ride we had, over 
the splendid pike and under and between the long lines of 
giant elms stretching away toward Kenilworth, through 
the interminable estates of Lord Leigh, whose people seem 
bowing to the ISTew in the introduction of steam-ploughs 
and harrows (to see the working of some of which among 
the tenacious clayey loam, both the Captain and the Gov- 
ernor abandoned the carriage and made the acquaintance 
of ploughed ground, hunter-mounted overseer, and leg- 
ginged gamekeeper), while they cling to the Old in the 
preservation of so many foxes that the farmers complain of 
ruined crops and desolated poultry-yards. Then, there and 
everywhere, Warwickshire was charmingly- wooded, heavi- 
ly-cropped, handsomely-kept, and lovely beyond descrip- 
tion ; but by-and-by came a little town of gabled stone cottages 
and uneven, winding streets, if possible older than Coven- 
try, through which our smart fly dashed with much scream- 
ing of geese and scattering of children ; and then beside 
us there was a massive ivy-grown ruined gateway, behind 
which a green laAvn sloped up to pile after pile of castella- 
ted ruins that seemed like the wreck of not a mere single 
building, but half a city, and — 
12* 



272 '^ PARIS IN '67. 

Kenilworth Castle ! 

Brave old name, hallowed alike by history and romance ! 

Some of us, then present, had had a jolly time, not many 
months before, seeing and hearing Lady Don play her capi- 
tal Leicester in the burlesque " Kenilworth," and sing that 
song of vivacious mischief with the arch refrain to which 
her own shapely limbs gave such point : — 

" Said, ' Honi soit qui mal y pense,' 
And wrote it on the garter 1" 

And all of us, perhaps, had thrilled beneath the terrible 
force of Ristori, playing her majestic Queen Elizabeth, 
and seeming to revive that screaming female eagle of the 
Tudors. Well, both those creations came back to us at that 
moment, in that first view of grand old Kenilworth— its 
fallen towers yet lordly in their extent and the rich fash- 
ioning of their sculptured windows, especially those of the 
banqueting-room, where the echoes of royal merriment seem 
even yet to be ringing ; sculptured entrance and crumbling 
stair showing where probably the Great Queen entered and 
stepped in her pride of state, when the magnificent noble 
received her with two thousand servants at his back and 
the revenue of a year spent in a single day ; the rich green 
of what was once the tilt-yard lying yet almost unbroken 
between the well-preserved gateway and the ruined main 
building, and showing a sod dense and compact enough for 
the best footing that ever knight's steed held in the peril- 
ous joust ; and over crumbling wall and fallen battlement 
great trees striding like conquerors, thrusting out their 
giant arms even up the broken stairways that Anna 
Maria's daring foot would tempt, forcing branches intru- 
sively through shattered windows, flaunting the all-cover- 
ing ivy as their banner, and seeming to make more lordly 
in decay even what they ruined. 

I have said, already, what every one knows — that there 



''SBj^T to COYEJ^fTRY.'' 273 

are few spots so doubly hallowed as Kenil worth, by both 
history and romance ; and the singularity is, that since 
Scott touched it, no one can quite dissever the one from the 
other. The arrogant Leicester and the queenly Tudor are 
not more real, to most intelligent persons, than Wayland 
Smith, and certainly not more so than Amy Robsart ; and 
I have no doubt whatever that the born Englishman who 
that day, within the walls of Kenilworth, informed me of 
the discovery of a subterranean passage leading from a 
farm-house at some miles distance, to the grounds under 
the castle, believed his story and believed that Amy Rob- 
sart, in the fiesh, had lived at that farm-house and been 
visited secretly by Leicester through that subterranean 
passage ! Oh, romancers ! romancers ! — how much you 
have to answer for, whether you romance between covers 
or in the prompter' s-copy for the stage ! How you make 
Leicester a bad demi-god, and Elizabeth a royal tartar, 
and Richard a crook-backed tyrant, and Richmond a 
high-toned monarch, and Richelieu the most conscientious 
of men and statesmen, and Rienzi a knightly hero, and 
Masaniello a fisherman for greatness instead of porgies and 
sardines ; and how you will, some day, I suppose, prove that 
Jefi" Davis never did an ambitious thing in his life ; and 
transform the rough, honest, indelicate, jovial, useful Lin- 
coln into an accomplished Paladin, and straighten Ben 
Butler's visuals as well as his pecuniary character! 

But all this by the way : it is some distance from Kenil- 
worth to Paris and Rome and Washington, as the old 
Scotchmen of the west used to say that it was " a far cry to 
Lochow!" The ivy clambering over the ruined walls h;'.s 
already been spoken of; but there was something else, th.it 
June day, less enduring but far more beautiful: roses an<l 
trumpet-creepers and other climbing flowers filled the ven- 
erable gardens and sprung into the embrasure of every 
broken window, while they made the air heavy with per- 



274 FAR 1 8 IN' '6 7. 

fume that took away the damp, moldy smell from decay; 
and I hope and believe that my good friend (for all that I 
know to the contrary) the Earl of Clarendon, statesman 
and present proprietor of this finest of old romantic and 
historical ruins, is not the poorer for the slight inroads that 
my unscrupulous fingers and Anna Maria's specimen-book 
made on his floral treasures. Neither the porter nor the 
gardener was in fault — I aver it : let the inquiry be made, 
and see whether either of them spent an unwonted shil- 
ling, that day, at the tumble-down inn immediately across 
the way from the gate-house. 

Away from Kenilworth, and half an hour's ride toward 
Warwick, and down a little shaded lane to the left from 
the road stood an old mill, with a broad, stone-bordered 
embankment before it, a willow-hung little river creeping 
and eddying below, and a castellated pile of much anti- 
quity in appearance rising on the thither shore, just be- 
yond the golden meadow. The old mill of heavy stone, 
and scrupulously clean and well kept, though seemingly 
dusted with the meal of centuries, beyond any hope of 
clearing it entirely away, was Guy's-Cliff Mill, said to 
be the oldest authentic mill in England, and undoubtedly 
some of the mighty rough stones of its walls and door- 
ways standing before the time of the Conqueror ; the little 
swirling, shaded river, was the Avon of song and story 
(called by all local residents, not " Ahvon," as pronounced 
by us, but "Aighvon") ; and the castellated pile was 
Guy's Cliff, a fortress celebrated since long before the days 
when Richard ISTeville made kings and was prouder than 
any king, as " Earl of Warwick," — ay, even back to those 
when it was just emerging from the crysalis of monastery- 
hood, and affording shelter in its rock-hewn caves to that 
mirror of arrant and unfortunate knighthood, Guy of 
Warwick, the only " old English worthy," by the way, 
except Henry the Eighth, whose armor, preserved in the 



''SENT TO COVENTRY.'' 275 

Tower of London, would answer for the Governor's wear 
in the unlikely event of his ever determining to prance 
round the world in an iron coat. 

Half an hour later, I was within Guy's Cliff (castle), and 
the grounds surrounding it, lubberly shown through the 
latter by a boy who showed his expectancy of a shilling a 
little too much for strict comfort, and courteously through 
the former by a housekeeper so genteel that I think I 
should have been less awed if the ovnier (Lord Charles 
Percy, brother to the Duke of Northumberland) had been 
himself present instead of in London. But candor com- 
pels the remark, that since Guy's Cliff came into posses- 
sion of the " Percies of old name," through marriage with 
a daughter of the Greathead family, to whom it came from 
Byron's Bertie Greathead, and originally from Peregrine 
Bertie, Duke of Ancaster and Kestevan, — that since that 
time it has begun to look a little tumble-down at the 
porches and within, as it has never been anything else 
than irregular without, a mixture of square and round 
towers, castle and mammoth mansion. Its pictures, some- 
what ostentatiously shown, are also a little Greatheady, 
a scion of that family having shown a crazy power with 
the pencil, which culminates in one large panel-picture, 
opening out of and closing into the dining-room wall at 
will, on I forget what horrible Italian subject, and dismal 
enough to give half Western England the nightmare. 
Though much wealth was evident throughout, and though 
Guy's Cliff has what even Shakspeare would have desig- 
nated as a " pleasant seat," yet somehow I could not help 
fancying that the castle had a mistress and no master 
(such things have been, they say, when the wealth came 
on the wife's side), and that the money spent for repairs 
was always looked upon a shade grudgingly. 

There was much more of interest without Guy's Cliff 
than within it; the dungeon cells in the solid (though 



276 PARIS I2T '67. 

soft) rock, now forming a side of the court-yard, and once 
supplying rat-hole cells to the monks, when this was all an 
abbey of some starvation order, are marvels of labor, pa- 
tience and self-denial ; and even more may be said of the 
excavation under the bank, at the base of the castle, on the 
Avon-side, where hunted old Guy is reputed to have hid- 
den himself like a wild beast in his lair, for years, and 
where the box he fashioned for his toraby bed, from a 
solid log, with his own hands, is still shown and reverenced. 
The well, also under the bank, on the Avon-side, from 
which he drank during his concealment, is cool enough 
and sweet enough to have kept life even in a hunted man ; 
the tangled shades overhanging the Avon (at one point, at 
a really startling height above it) are rich with some of the 
very finest old trees of old England — -oaks, and beeches, 
and elms of immemorial growth, and two or three cedars- 
of-Lebanon worthy to have sprung on the crest of Libanus 
and wide-branched enough to shelter a regiment each ; 
and, taken altogether, Guy's Cliff is one of the relics of 
the past, least to be ignored in interesting Warwickshire. 
Long may it be, before the patrimony once of the Nevilles 
and then of the Berties, falls into worse hands than those 
of the Percy-Smithsons ! 

There was another and much more imposing and much 
better-known building, though scarcely so notable in the 
antiquarian sense — coming full on us that day as we rode 
on toward Stratford, and breaking into view as we sm*- 
mounted the steep, stony streets of the old village of War- 
wick, where all the features of Midland England old white- 
walled and thalched-cottagre architecture seemed to be in- 
tensined, and where the sign of the Bear and Ragged-staff 
seemed to bring up an almost painful recollection of the 
cognizance of the unfortunate King-Maker. 

This was Warwick Castle, a noble round-towered castel- 
lated pile, hanging over the Avon at a point where the 



''SENT TO COVENTRY.'" 277 

five-or-six-centuries-old bridge which supplies the view, 
the swirling tide beneath and umbragoous shade clustering 
close around its foot, combine to give it the most beautiful 
and most romantic of settings — the whole picture fimiliar 
to scenery-lovers, for the last fifty years, in every line of 
pictorial art, from recognized landscape to window-shades 
and fire-boards. It is, in fact, a pet piece in English 
scenery, as indescribable as unnecessary of description. 
The old pile bears the " tooth of time " most nobly, as if 
from such a nest of beauty nothing should dislodge it ; 
and though a few of the crenelles are crumbling away from 
the battlements, and some of the long-past- sieges have 
left marks that even the climbing ivy can scarcely conceal, 
yet the Earl of Warwick still makes it a favorite residence 
and it remains a thing of present use as well as antique 
show. 

There is a celebrated " Warwick vase " within it, and 
no doubt many features of interest, historical as well as 
merely connected with the residence of a nobleman. Yet 
I confess to having left the interior unvisited, and to not 
even having indulged a desire to spend a crown or two in 
inspecting the bed-rooms and feeing the servants of George 
Guy Greville. The outside of noble and royal residences 
is generally the most satisfactory : let us fancy that it is so 
with Warwick Castle. Soft blow the winter winds around 
the gray donjon-keep, and tenderly shroud it the ivy, said 
to be so fatal in its love ! — ^for the pile has a history of 
power and sufiering, of attack and domination, running 
far back through the ages : and Midland-England has noth- 
ing more nobly and perfectly beautiful, even as a mere ap- 
peal to the eye and the ruder senses, than the Bear's Hold 
over the Avon. 



XXIII. 

TWO DAYS AT STRATFOED AND OHARLECOTE. 

A PLEiisANT afternoon of June, that on which we caught 
the first glirapse of the square tower, with its pointed up- 
per spire, of the Church of the Holy Trinity, and disem- 
barked from the railway train at the quiet station of Strat- 
ford-on-Avon. A Friday afternoon, too — usually consid- 
ered the most unlucky of days, but blessed above others 
in that it filled a hope and expectation of many years, by 
bringing the wandering feet to the home and tomb of 
Shakspeare; and yet more fortunate that it chanced to be 
market-day, so that riding down the main street to the Red 
Horse, and afterwards walking out with that restlessness 
inevitable while waiting dinner, we came among the stacked 
carts, temporary booths, fish, cherries, woolen stockings, 
willow baskets, and nick-nacks of the Warwickshire peo- 
ple ; had opportunities to note their homely and healthy 
rusticity of dress, voice, and manner, and to thus fall back, 
as it seemed, at least two centuries nearer the time of the 
great dead who had brought us to the pilgrimage. 

Tljc foregoing is a long sentence, I ani aware of the fact ; 
but it was unavoidable. Tiiere are constitutions to which 
an occasional long sentence (not judicially delivered) is as 
necessary as an occasional scrimmage to Phelim O'Finne- 
gan, from the county Kerry, or an occasional flirtation to 
Sophonisba Jane ; besides, I really wanted to get in that 
" market," which materially edified and amused me, and I 



STRATFOnD AKD CJJARLECOTE. 279 

do not see 1h>w it could li.ivo l>c(3n managed otherwiso. 
After 1 once arrived within the purely Shaksperian pre- 
cincts, tlu; "market" would certainly have received the go- 
l>y ; ibr JIawthorne AvaH thoroughly correct when he re- 
marked, writing of tliiH vei')"^ Stratford and its shrined 
worthy, the unconscioiiK arrogance of Home of these great 
dead, who do not allow meaner men room to breathe 
aroimd tliem — scarcely even space to sleep in tom})s in 
their vicinity. 

Feeble wit, too, was likely to re(^eive its quietus in the 
Shakspeare neighborhood; and I think the desire of vent- 
ing the last on hand of a bad article, may have moved 
Anna Maria to refuse entering the one-gray-hors(! omnibus 
waiting to convey us to the hostelry of the Ited Horse, on 
the ground that " she did not see any red horse, nothing 
but a white one ; and catcli Aer going to a liouse where 
they adveitised one thing and supplied another !" But 
ihe charioteer had evidently been cauglit in that silly ver- 
bal tra]) before, for he assured her ladyship with a grin, 
that " as that horse had carried a great many smart peoj)le, 
writers, and such like, and had been more than a little 
written about, it had been ''read about' as well, and so 
ho thought would answer tlic puri)ose." Whereupon 
Anna Maria shrunk within her niunber five boots, wonder- 
ing what the world was coming to, when Warwickshire 
coachmen j/icked u[) the very atrocities of b;id pinniing, 
flung away by others like cigar stumps, and [)l:iy(;d upon 
them in that unexpe(;ted manner I 

We reached the Ited Horse, however, in spite of the 
clieval hlanc that should have been a cheval roicge — a very 
old inn, wonderfully quiet, well kept, and comfortable, not 
far from the willow-fringed Avon and its bridgc^s, reached 
by passage through a larg(i |)roportion of the clean, antique- 
looking town, whi(;h seems to have more than all the years 
of Sliakspoare's fame brooding softly and slumberously 



280 PARIS Ilfl '67. 

over it. The hotel, over the door of which was the horse 
for which Anna Maria had been looking, was entered by 
an archway from the street, arriving visitors debarking 
into the very door on one side of the arch, much after a 
fashion now peculiar to old French towns ; and the oldest 
of all old stable-yards in the rear, where lounged smock- 
frocked ostlers, and stood waiting the most antiquated and 
odd-looking assortment of gigs and open carriages that 
ever blessed the eyes of an antiquary. Wendell Holmes's 
" One-Horse Shay" was nothing to some of them in the 
way of early origin ; but certainly any thing more modern 
would have been out of place and jarred all the proprie- 
ties in that quaint raediseval stable-yard, out of which 
Falstaff himself might have ordered his horse in the days 
when his girth had not grown too ponderous for mount- 
ing. 

The Red Horse is in some sense (like many other places 
that one finds in Europe, on close examination) an Ameri- 
ca7i inn^ making a specialty of accommodating the 
" eagle's brood," and heading its bills with a horse-crested 
oval within which we read " Red Horse Family and Com- 
mercial Hotel," while around the border runs the notifica- 
tion ; " Known to Americans as Washington Irving's Hotel." 
And no claim could be less arrogant, better supported, or 
more welcome to the people for whose suffrages it is put 
forth; for apart from the thousands upon thousands of the 
great in every walk of life who have sojourned at the Red 
Horse (as the best of the Stratford inns) in making their pil- 
grimages to the birth-place of Shakspeare, and in addition 
to the special memory that Nathaniel Hawthorne (now 
already a classic and even then the first of American nov- 
elists) made his temporary abode there when tracing out 
ancestral haunts in Warwickshire, — certain it is that the 
cozy small parlor, looking out on the sunny street from 
which not all the market carts and booths had yet been 



STRATFORD AND GEARLECOTE. 281 

cleared away, was tljat to wMch Washington Irving re- 
ferred (whether he sat in the office-exhibited chair, or not) 
when he wrote, in one of the best-known papers of the 
volume which literally " madehira " as "Pickwick" made 
Dickens: "'Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn?' 
thought I, as I gave the fire a stir, lolled back in my elbow- 
chair, and cast a complacent look about the little parlor of 
the Red Horse, at Stratford-on-Avon." 

If there is any one spot on earth which I emphatically 
do not intend either to describe or to grow eloquently 
maudlm over, that spot is Shakspeare's Birth-Place, on 
Henley street, in the heart of the quiet, handsome, odd old 
town. Both have been so often done before me and so 
much better done than I can hope to do, that I have no 
resource but to fall back upon my reserved rights, as did 
that practical person who declined to weep at an aiiecting 
sermon in a particular church, because he " belonged to 
another parish" — objecting to fall into rhapsodies from 
which I could never emersie without beinsj drowned in un- 
fortunate comparisons. 

There are feelings and facts, however, both of which 
can be expressed without rhapsody or attempted minute 
description. A very old timber-and-plaster house, cross- 
gabled at the right end and with two dormer windows 
at centre and left, evidently restored but the restorations 
so made that the large original portions are not confounded 
with the additions, — stands on the north side of Henley 
street, now detached from any other buildings, and taste- 
ful and well-kept flower-gardens surrounding the rear and 
ends. Along the front runs a wooden portico, sheltering 
the doorways and lower windows. Within, on the ground- 
floor, a roughly-built apartment, with stone floor badly 
broken, leads back to a kitchen with large fire-place, if 
possible ruder than the other. Above, the front room, over 
the street, slant-roofed, bare-raftered, rough-floored and 



282 PARIS IN '67. 

low, lighted by one large window with many squares of 
small glass set in lead sashes, is the room where Shak- 
speare is reputed to have been born — where I really be- 
lieve him to have been born, because there seem many 
reasons to believe that he might have been, none to prove 
that he might not, and no rival places set up as the origin- 
points of his peerless fame. Behind and adjoining are (if 
I remember correctly), two much smaller and less comfort- 
able rooms, low-raftered and evidently used for bed-rooms 
when the house was occupied for dwelling purposes. 
jSTearly every inch of the birth-room wall (the whole house 
being whitewashed and kept in the most scrupulous order) 
is covered with pencil-inscriptions of names, as is, indeed, 
nearly every inch of the whole house susceptible to a mark 
of the human barnacles. The panes of the window of the 
birth-room (alleged to be the original, and probably so, 
as certainly very old) are covered with diamond-scratches, 
that of Walter Scott (" W. Scott ") being so easy to find 
that Hawthorne must have been half-blind to miss it when 
looking especially for it. 

This is Shakspeare's birth-place proper, or what we must 
regard as such, for a correspondingly good reason to that 
which induced the coroner' s-jury to find a verdict against 
a man not-too-clearly indicated as the murderer of another 
on whose body (figuratively) they were sitting : " If Jones 
didn t kill Smith, who did ?" If Shakspeare was not 
born here, where was he born ? I repeat that I am satis- 
fied of the genuineness of the Birth-Place and the birth- 
room ; and I feel it my duty to add that once and again I 
hope to meet on the same spot, and still in the same charge 
in which she seems so conscientious and capable, the ac- 
tive, intelligent little lady (I fancy the same of whom 
Hawthorne wrote as the " lady-like girl ") who seemed so 
much disposed to treat a trae lover of Shakspeare's memory 
with even extraordinary courtesy, while she had not an 



STRATFORD AJ^D CEARLECOTE. 283 

hour before shown no small proportion of the tigress in 
preventing the persistent efforts of a human pig (I grieve 
to say that he was an American) to break a positive rule 
of the place and scribble his worthless name where there 
are quite enough already. 

So much for the facts — now for one word of feeling. 
Some have expressed themselves as disappointed when 
standing on these very spots, unable to find the thrill that 
had been expected. I expected no special thrill, and found 
one. To me, the old, rough-stoned, bare-raftered room 
seemed the fitting nest from which such a bird of Jove 
might have sprung ; to me, the aroma of immortality 
seemed to pervade every stick and stone of the house 
where the greatest uninspired penman of all time leapt 
into being. I was fully content and happy thus to have 
accomplished one more of the pilgrimages long-deferred 
and anxiously hoped for; and I think that I carried some- 
thing of the atmosphere of that content away with me, 
combined with the fragrance of a few June roses and a 
little of the product of that " bank whereon the wild thyme 
blows," given me by a fair hand that shall be no nearer 
named but well remembered. 

Infinitely more romantic in all its surroundings than the 
Birth-Place, is Anne Hathaway's cottage at Shottery — 
perhaps a mile or two from Stratford, westward, on the 
verge of that Yale of Evesham where Simon de Montfort 
lost power and life in his battle with the boy First 
Edward. (Can bones last five or six hundred years, I 
wonder ? — for only a year before I rode over the Vale, 
they had dug up the bones of some forty men lying side 
by side, who could scarcely have been placed there by any 
other event than the great battle.) 

Shottery is the most picturesque of rural hamlets — the 
cottages very old, thatched and weather-beaten, and nearly 
all exhibiting the evidences of poverty ; and among the 



284: PARIS IK '67. 

oldest of the old and the most picturesque of the pic- 
turesque, is the thatched cottage where Shakspeare courted 
and married Anne Hathaway. Old without (in timber- 
and-plaster, like the Birth-Place), but marvelously well- 
preserved — an old age, " frosty, but kindly ;" old within, 
low-ceilinged and humble-looking, but with preserved 
relics of furniture and bedding-linen to show that the 
Hathaways were once people of no mean consideration. 
A wealth of June roses, honey-suckles and sweet-williams 
(how appropriate the latter !) blooming in the old, old gar- 
den in front of it ; and remnants under the shady eaves 
showing where the birds had nested and made lo.ve, 
through the long years of centuries, like the unfledged 
great man and the humble loving woman who performed 
the same offices in the rooms beneath, ages and ages ago ! 
We brought away sweet recollections of Shottery, did we 
not. Captain who deserted and rode home to Stratford in 
the fly, and Anna Maria who joined in that sweetest of 
walks across the fields, by winding " Shakspeare's path," 
with the sun setting in golden glory — the hay-makers (male 
and female) smothering us in the delicious perfume of 
their labor — the scenery of hedge and shade and green 
field among the quietest and loveliest of Midland England — 
the air perfection — the influences all softening, soothing 
and enrapturing — and as we paused for a moment at one 
of the rustic stiles over which the lovers of the hamlet may 
have climbed from time immemorial, the sad sweet 
sunset chimes coming over the fields from one of the Strat- 
ford steeples, filling the ear as perfectly as eye and heart 
and brain had all been filled for hour on hour preceding ! 

TJie Church of the Holy Trinity, containing that tomb 
which I believe to be most sacred to Englishmen of any 
inclosing the remains of a mere mortal — most sacred, I 
think, even to Americans, of any after that at Mount Ver- 
non — stands almost at the Avon-side, the shaded church- 



STRATFORD AND CHARLECOTE, 285 

yard sweeping down to the very edge of the quiet, wind- 
ing, beautiful little stream, at (if my memory of directions 
is reliable) the southeastern portion of the town, and on 
the western bank of the stream. It is much handsomer 
and more imposing than most semi-rural English Midland 
churches, being cruciform, in full Gothic, crenellated, with 
florid Gothic windows, and a neat square tower with orna- 
mented-buttressed corners, from which a sexangular pointed 
spire of moderate height springs gracefully. Hawthorne (I 
seem to be always quoting Hawthorne, in connection with 
Stratford ; but the truth is that he was one of the most 
appreciative of all pilgrims to Warwickshire) — Hawthorne 
has remarked what probably has struck many another vis- 
itor to the Holy Trinity — that "the poet and his family are 
in possession of the very best burial-places that the church 
affords." I feel disposed to go a step further and say that 
they have managed to be buried in not only the best places 
in the church, but in one of the most eligibly-situated of all 
the churches of spire-dotted England. For the beauty of 
the little river has already been commented upon and really 
needed no comment whatever ; and centuries have pushed 
into noble luxuriance, in the stone-marked and grave- 
mounded yard of velvet turf, some of the noblest elms and 
other fine old shade-trees known even to well-timbered 
"Warwickshire. The path from the gate to the church at 
the farther end of the grounds, is even duskily shaded by 
the arching elms that meet and interlace above ; and no 
entrance could be more appropriate or more conducive to 
that feeling of tender reverence proper on approaching the 
mausoleum of one of earth's greatest dead. 

Within, the Holy Trinity well redeems the promise made 
from without. The windows are of richly-stained glass ; 
the order is liofht Gothic, with no small elaboration in fin- 
ish; the arches squared at the half-spring, and angel- 
pointed ; and the roof in small paneling with rose-joints. 



286 PARIS IN- '67. 

It seems new enough not to have been touched by the 
finger of decay, and yet old enough to command respect 
for its fair proportion of centuries. The tomb of Shak- 
speare is in the chancel (as nearly every one knows from 
pictorial or other information), near the foot of the altar- 
railing, and very close to the left side when looking toward 
the chancel. A broad, flat, dark stone, level with the pave- 
ment (though visitors are somewhat carefully watched to 
see that they do not inadvertently put foot upon it) ; the 
inscription on it, in Roman, so inexorably copied by every 
writer and so well known from its peculiar tenor, that it 
is again repeated almost with shame in the present instance 
— the only redeeming fact in the repetition being that the 
spelling is not always correctly rendered, and that it is 
worth something to get even a glimpse of orthography at 
and soon after the great dramatist's time : — 



Good frend for Iesvs sake forbeare, 
to digg- the dvst encloased heare : 
Blest be ye man" yt spares thes stones, 
and cvrst be he yt moves mt bones. 



It is another well-known fact that Shakspeare's wife, 
daughter, grand-daughter, and relatives by marriage, lie 
under other flat slabs by the side of the poet ; but enough 
to dwell (if not to stand) upon the one stone, connected 
with the sepulture of the man best heard of and best 
appreciated of all mere mortals — a tomb at which, more 
forcibly than at any other, comes into reverent thought 
those marvelously-pregnant hero-worship lines of Halleck : 

" Such spots as these are pilgrim shrines- 
Shrines to no creed or code confined ; 
The Delphian Vales, the Palestines, 
The Meccas of the mind." 



STRATFORD AND CHARLEGOTE. 2S7 

It is good to stand in such a place, as it was to stand in 
the birth-chamber — to measure thus, so far as they can be 
measured, the two ends of a brief life-journey moulding 
the world of mind, and consequently affecting the tem}Doral 
and eternal interests of all humanity, as they have never 
been affected by any other one life since that of Christ ! 
And on that spot, standing reverently with uncovered head, 
the thought came to me more forcibly than ever elsewhere, 
so that for the first time I felt almost wronged in not being 
able to solve it : — Is all this world-pilgrimage to the shrine 
of his burial, open to the eyes of the sleeper of two and a 
half centuries, or hidden from them ? Does he know how 
great his name is upon earth ? — he who may be to-day 
greatest among the great in another sphere, or least among 
the least J Does he know what Hamlet, and Jacques, and 
Mercutio, and Juliet, and Imogen, and Beatrice are to us — 
how the world would be blank if they left it, even as it would 
be blank if we buried so many of our personally dear ones ? 
Or is it all a shadow, a blindness, a deaihess, a mystery, 
even to him, only to be cleared when all the eternal secrets 
are made known ? Methinks the mind that wove Ham- 
let's soliloquies and deposed Richard's meditations, might 
almost have speculated thus over another, if it could have 
found another worthy of the speculation ; but the answer 
would have been denied, then, even as it is denied to-day. 

It is immediately at the left of the tomb, in the side-wall, 
that the celebrated bust-monument is imbedded — a very 
creditable bit of work in soft freestone ; the face a some- 
what round and jolly one, large eyed, curled moustached, 
and high foreheaded like all the others ; the figure merely 
a bust, with the hands resting on a cushion, one holding 
the pen, and the other resting on an open scroll; this 
within a deep round arch, between two small corinthian 
columns ; and over it a figure-supported, death's-head- 
crowned hatchment, on a broad entablature, bearing the 
13 



288 PARIS IN '67. 

Shakspeare arms of a tilting-spear in saltire, cross-crosslets 
fitchee, and a hawk holding a tilting-spear as crest. At 
the base of the figure, on a broad black tablet, is the 
inscription, somewhat known but by no means hackneyed 
to the extent of that on the burial slab : — 



JuDicio PuLiuM, Genio Socratbm, Aete Maronem, 
Teera Tegit, Populus Mceret, Olympus Habet. 

Stay, passenger • why goest thou by so fast, 
Read, if thou canst, whom envious death hath plast 
Within this monument, Sliakspeare, withom 
Quick nature dide ; wliose name doth deck ys tombe 
Far more than cost ; syth all yt he hath writt 
Leaves living art but page to servo his witt. 
Obiit. Ano. Doi. 1616. Etatis 53. Die 23. Ap. 



The great in worldly power are little beside genius ; and 
I doubt whether every one who visits the Holy Trinity 
even notices the fact that within the chancel railing, on 
raised altar-tombs are effigied Sir Hugh Clopton and his 
wife, and that Carew, Earl of Totnes, who was once Lord 
Treasurer to Elizabeth — while the fine old church is by no 
means deficient in other mourning memorials that would 
be effective and pleasing elsewhere. 

The birth and burial records of Shakspeare are very 
carefully locked and guarded in the vestry — a room of no 
special mark at the right, passing back toward the chan- 
cel. The locks seem to be needed, for even with all this 
precaution bits of the registry-book have been snipped 
away by mad curiosity-hunters! This book is long, nar- 
row, parchment-bound, and looks its age ; and on two of 
the leaves, at some distance apart, stand the records of the 
christening :" 26th April 1563, Gulielmus, films Johannes 
Shakspeare XXX ;" and the burial: "April 25th, 1616, 



STRATFORD A2iD C3ARLEC0TE. 289 

William Shakspeare, gentleman." There is also in the 
chancel what has been a fine old font, of the usual vase- 
shape, but now broken and defaced — believed to have been 
in existence in Shakspeare's time, and very probably that 
from which he was christened. At least we were all will- 
ing to believe so, that day when the too-hasty hour at the 
Church of the Holy Trinity came to an end, and we wan- 
dered down, in the golden sunset light, to sit on the lower 
of the two bridges over the little Avon, see the willows 
bending down lovingly to the stream, mark the exquisite 
rurality of the whole scene, and hear the soft lap and swirl 
of the water blending with the voices of children at their 
play. 

That was a pleasant evening by the Avon-side ; and it 
is from some of the observations then made that I am 
induced to set down a somewhat startling fact and make a 
more startling suggestion. There are prettier children 
about Stratford, and the female portion seem to have the 
faculty of growing up into prettier girls, than I have seen 
anywhere else in England. Have the Shakspearian 
memories anything whatever to do with this ? Do people 
grow handsomer, as a race, by being surrounded with 
romantic and notable influences ? — or do more handsome 
people visit Stratford than other places, and leave behind 
them some tangible recollection of their presence ? 

I wish that I could "talk Warwickshire," or write it — 
then would I tell precisely the words in the which the 
driver of our open fly {^'■Pourquoi ' fly ' ?" enquired Anna 
Maria, " seeing that the clumsy thing rather creeps than 
goes on wings !") — in which the driver, I say, of the ojDen 
fly which was bearing us through the most lovely shaded 
rural scenery imaginable, by Tiddington and Haverston 
(little old thatched-cottage villages both) towards Leam- 
ington — demonstrated most conclusively to me (1 wonder 
whether any one can ever read and understand this 



290 PARIS I2f '67. 

unpardonable sentence !) that it was utterly impossible, 
now-a-days, to gain entrance to Charlecote Hall, as the 
family of Mr. Lucy were at home, and the place had not 
been " shown " to visitors for a number of years. I can- 
not remember his precise language ; but I can remember 
mine, when he drove past the practicable entrance -gate 
leading into those magnificent wide lawns, emerald-green, 
with the mightiest of old oaks, elms and beeches studding 
them, and dozens of red and spotted deer trooping or ly- 
ing beneath the shades of what I certainly think one of 
the most glorious parks that I have ever seen in any land — 
the property of king, noble, or commoner. There was a 
gate, at the spot where he vouchsafed to halt us — a very 
handsome large double gate of ornamental iron, fast-locked 
between two massive stone posts crowned with one of the 
cognizances of the Lucys — the boar's-head, if I do not 
misremember — while at the end of a long, handsomely- 
shaded avenue, rose Charlecote Hall itself, the very ideal 
of the dwelling of an English country-gentleman of long 
descent and independent means — a solid, substantial 
building, Elizabethan in its general appearance, but with 
many clustered chimneys and Byzantine-topped corner 
turrets, and just enough of the ivy commencing to creep 
over it to add a dash of the venerable to the comfortable. 

1^0 matter what were the words with which I " induced " 
the driver to take his way back to the humbler gate which 
was not locked — he protesting all the while that there was 
"no use attempting to get into Shawlcut" (the local pronun- 
ciation of the word) ; nor how the Captain and Anna 
Maria joined him in believing that I was wasting time, 
and declared that "they did not care to go into it, any 
how;" nor how the driver stared and the two indif- 
ferents presented a very different aspect, ^vhen some 
singular open sesame^ of which there is no occasion to give 
an ac<3omit (at least it was not bribery), produced a very 



STRATFORD AXD CHARLECOTE. 291 

kind order from Mr. Lucy to have us shown through the 
Hall, and sent the well-trained butler, early squeezed into 
his black coat for the purpose, to do tlie honors of 
exhibition. 

. Blessed among the gentry of England are the Lucys of 
Charlecote, whether Shakspeare did kill deer lawlessly in 
that noble park and find arraignment in that fine old 
baronial hall, or not — whether the good though perhaps 
severe Sir Thomas of that day was or was not lampooned 
by the poet, and afterwards caricatured as Justice Shallow 
by the poet fledged to be the dramatist. For noble as is 
Charlecote Park (and I really would not trade it for that 
of Windsor, as site for a residence), Charlecote Hall is 
quite its equal in every detail of stately luxury. The 
vaulted'^great-hall (where Shakspeare is said to have been 
arraigned) is in the most perfect of mediaeval taste, with 
its immense space, high vaulted ceilings and wealth of 
windows giving it almost the brightness of the outer air, 
— and with a staircase noble enough for that of a royal 
palace, leading away to the upper apartments ; the bil- 
liard-room, next entered, is in equally excellent taste in 
erection- and furnishing, while a billiard-table upon which 
Og, King of Bashan, might have caromed with some of his 
brother giants, occupies the centre of the apartment; in 
the drawing-room there are enough of very gems in pic- 
tures, originals of moderate size, by the very best of the 
old Italian, Flemish and Spanish masters, with a few 
modern ones to give them light and variety — literally to 
supply a " King's ransom," and to give assurance of the 
taste which must preside throughout; in the dining- 
room (as also in the great-hall) are some of the finest 
specimens of carving in English oak, modern and mediae- 
val, that the w^hole island can supply ; and in the library 
— but the library must have a paragraph of its own ; for 
are not libraries and their contents (always excepting the 



292 PARIS IN '&1. 

works of the present writer) above all other things in 
intrinsic value ? 

Like every other portion of the house which comes 
under the eye of the favored visitor, this library is perfect 
in furniture and appointments, and displays the pikes 
(or luces) of the Lucy arms liberally ; and scarcely even 
Sir Walter, at Abbottsford, possessed one so charmingly 
located. The gentle, winding, shaded Avon flows almost 
beneath the windows and is reached by a flight of 
stone steps leading down to a handsome tiny pier for 
boat-service — much more like those beautiful fancies of 
the sort, so uncommon in the actual world but so fa- 
miliar on theatre-drops, than anything else that I have 
ever seen ; its wealth of books in their carved, oaken book- 
cases, comprise nearly all ages and all languages— certainly 
a, collection to enrapture a book-worm and bewilder a 
house-maid entrusted with their dusting and re-arrang- 
ment ; and I suppose that there is scarcely wealth enough 
in Warwickshire to buy away from its place of honor one 
peculiar feature of that apartment. This is nothing 
more nor less than a suite of furniture in ebony, with the 
most elaborate ornamentation in sea-horse-tooth ivory 
inlaying, that would seem to have consumed a life-time or 
two in preparation ; but beautiful as is the suite of itself, 
how much are its interest and value added to when it is 
known that it is the same presented to the Earl of Leices- 
ter, at Kenilworth, by Queen Elizabeth, at that very 
more-th an -regal reception of a royal guest, of which we 
almost seemed to feel the atmosphere yet hanging round 
the banqueting-hall windows of that magnificent ruin ! 
There may be more interesting relics of long-gone days, 
stored away in some of the feudal palaces of England ; 
but I should be proud to own this and scarcely enquire 
after any single rival — -just as, I think, if I owned Charle- 
cote, I should be hkely to eschew the American vice of 



STRATFORD AND GHARLEGOTE. 293 

removal and think that I had mastered that comprehen- 
sive word — home. 

Perhaps I have been expansive and enthusiastic over 
Charlecote — I fancy that I have been ; for though I ex- 
pected much, I found more — one of the handsomest and 
best-appointed residences " within the four seas that girt 
Britain." This is worthy even of the connection of Shak- 
speare's name ! — so I said and repeated again and again as 
we rolled regretfully away by handsome little Charlecote 
Church, an appanage of the manor, over the delicious roads 
and through the soft meadows and shaded lanes, by the 
quaint half-old half-modern hamlet of Harford ; rumbled 
through Warwick with farewell glimpses of the Castle, 
the Avon, striped Leicester's Hospital, and the bears-and. 
ragged-staves ; and brought up at last, drinking endm'able 
iodine-water and looking out once more for places in a 
railway-carriage, at clean-looking, stylish, ultra-genteel, 
yellow-freestone-y, large-named, " Parade "-studded, Sara- 
toga-ish and yet altogether indescribable Leamington Spa. 



XXIV. 

HYDE PARK AND PARLIAMENT. 

When I was "doing London," in 1865, the government 
had just been defeated, and "gone to the country " in more 
senses than one ; consequently I lost both Park and Par- 
liament, except the empty chambers of the latter, for the 
" season " was over. This year I have had both, in rare 
perfection, however briefly — the time the close of June, 
with the weather borrowed from Italy, as it seemed, for 
my special accommodation ; all the world in town, and 
using the unwontedly clear atmosphere to make themselves 
the most magnificent of shows ; and parliament basy at what 
then seemed the intermmable " Representation of the 
People's Bill " — the " Reform Bill," to put it more intelli- 
gibly. I had previously seen London pretty thoroughly, 
but missed those two aspects ; and here opens a theme 
worthy of long elaboration, and yet one that can only 
be dealt with in a few sentences. 

To an American, the British Houses of Parliament 
(Westminster Palace) are nobler and handsomer, without, 
than they seem to be held by the English people, who 
make an affectation of considering them gingerbready, 
tawdry, and in bad taste. If they are in bad taste, let us 
have a little more of that execrable commodity on both 
sides of the Atlantic, and at an early period ! But within, 
and considered as halls of legislation, the two chambers 
make about the same impression on the mind of any west- 



EYDE PARK AND PARLIAMENT. 295 

ern man, used to plenty of room and any quantity of lobby, 
that might be produced by ofiering the most elegant of 
bandboxes to a man looking after a cart. The Lords* 
Chamber is handsome enough, though by no means to be 
compared with half a dozen of the State Senate chambers 
of the United States, except in the gilded throne (com- 
monly kept vigorously covered), and a few other details 
of decoration ; and in commodiousness, and one would think 
even in comfort, neither that nor the Commons' is to be 
named beside the least notable of ours, much more beside 
those immense but very comfortable and really elegant 
arenas for the fighting of the national battle over the nigger, 
supplying room to speak and abundant space to hear, and 
known as the Congressional Chambers at Washington. 
IsTot a seat in either of the English chambers has any 
special comfort ; not one has any facility for scribbling 
even a word of note, except on the knee, in a book of 
tablets, or on the crown of the ever-present hat. And as 
to lobby accommodation, let it be brie% said that in the 
Lords' there is none except a single row of screened seats 
around the gallery, the whole of which might accommodate 
fifty or seventy-five, and a few " stalls " for the royal family 
and more favored of the nobility — not even the commonest 
of them attainable by a stranger, except through the per- 
sonal introduction of a "Noble Lord," or the use of a com- 
plimentary Legation ticket. To the Commons, the access 
is a little more liberal, though even there the accommoda- 
tion is something worse than that provided in the New 
York Aldermanic Chamber, and the entree only to be pro- 
cured through favoritism. The whole arrangement is, to 
my fancy, mean, petty, ridiculously exclusive, and entirely 
unworthy the chief deliberative bodies of a great nation ; 
and though the Governor is proverbially not the easiest of 
men to keep on the outside of any place which he sets his 
mind upon entering, both he aiid the Captain, in the pres- 
13* 



296 PARIS IN '6 7. 

ent instance, might have found themselves vigorously 
excluded but for the courtesy of Mr. Benjamin Moran, 
Secretary (and wheel-horse) of the American Legation, to 
whose hard-working usefulness in his sphere I have before 
taken occasion to refer. 

But, different as the Parliamentary Chambers may be 
from American preconception, they present nothing in the 
way of wonder comparable to that really mightiest body 
of legislators m the loorld^ the Lords and Commons of 
England themselves. Good-looking men enough, and 
possibly a shade better-looking, or at least healthier and 
less nervous-looking, than the average of American Con- 
gressmen, they are by no means the Adonises or types of 
physical perfection that they are usually called by Jenkins 
and his tribe. And they have no special dignity of de- 
meanor to throw them into better relief; in fact, they may 
be said to have the very opposite. It is not to be de- 
nied that in the Lords there are many fine faces, some 
eminently handsome and high-bred ones (perhaps the 
Duke of Argyle's the clearest-cut of all), and not a few 
venerable heads ; and that especially around the members 
of that body there is woven an indescribable something, 
which tells that they are also members of good society ; but 
when that is said, nearly all is told. They are (I don't mean 
to be irreverent) old fogyish and lumpish-looking, sitting 
with hat on head (I believe that is a point of conscience 
with an English peer in his official seat, as it is with our 
Hebrew brethren when they bear testimony), and convey- 
ing the impression of considering it a favor to the world 
that they deign to legislate at all. There are orators 
among them, too, orators in the English sense ; and there 
are wise lawgivers — who doubts the fact? They are 
something to respect, in a certain sense even to venerate, 
but scarcely to admire, at least from our western point of 
view. 



HYDE PARK AND PAELIAMEN'T. 297 

The Commons are the younger, less-refined, and less- 
respectable lords. Wearing the hat seems optional with 
them, though it predominates. The Speaker presides with- 
out any marked dignity, and the members comport them- 
selves without any pretense to that quality. They stand, 
sit, go out frequently, and return as frequently — Speaker 
and members suggesting nothing more orderly than, say, 
a meeting of an American Chamber of Commerce for some 
informal object, in which the members "talk" and do not 
" speak " — instead of the popular and money- supplying 
body of the mightiest of European nations. They cheer, 
and "hear! hear," a favorite speaker; bray, crow, "Oh! 
oh !" and cough down an obnoxious one, long before they 
have heard what he intends to say. Their best speakers 
are able ones, beyond a doubt, acute in argument, accu- 
rate in practical education, strong in ratiocination ; but the 
best of the best, the John Brights, the William Ewart 
Gladstones, the Benjamin Disraelis (all of whom seemed to 
be first or last on foot during our day), are not orators in 
the American understanding of the term. They are wo- 
fully unimpassioned, and seem to lack the trick of earnest ; 
they seldom gesticulate, and they " ah — ah !" and drawl too 
much, keeping eager ears waiting for their words, and 
seeming to have forgotten the exact expressions intended 
to be used, or not quite made up their minds as to the best 
of certain choosing-words. The fact may be stated in brief, 
that however the leading speakers of the British Parlia- 
ment may command the respect of the world by the results 
of their labors, and however much they may be able to 
move EngUsh hearers and English constituencies by their 
action and their speech, such speech would move the 
sharper, quicker, higher-seasoned American ear and taste 
not much more than a child's whisper in a whirlwind. 

I have not been very enthusiastic, any more than very 
thorough, in dealing with Parliament: true. Now to 



298 PARIS IN '67. 

atone, "by being quite as hurried and unsatisfactory with, 
reference to the Park — Hyde Park, specially, I mean, and 
that peculiarly because it is there that at certain hours of 
the afternoon and approaching evening, Parliament " risen " 
and all the other details of fashionable life subordinated to. 
the great event, the nobility, the " style," the beauty and 
the arrogant pretension of England gather and pass in re- 
view, as nowhere else on the odd, matchless little island. 

Wonderful are the vehicles standing in Parliament- 
yard for an hour before the " rising " — waiting for the 
Peers and the more notable M. P.'s to come out and be 
TV^hirled away. Wonderful in the excellence and style of 
matched-horses (though in that regard they do not overtop 
the fashion of the American commercial and social metropo- 
lis) — wonderful in the perfection of carriage, harness, and ap- 
pointments — wonderful in the liveries and the laughable 
pomposity of cockaded (and often matched^ like the horses) 
drivers and footmen of the open chariots — wonderful in the 
calves (padded or natural) of many of the footmen afore- 
said, and the air oi hnowing hoio to he menials in a preten- 
tious manner^ at which they have arrived by long practice 
— yet more wonderful, if possible, in the wives or daughters 
of notables, who have arrived at such " exact-science " in 
the art of lounging back in the carriage while sometimes 
waiting there instead of fatiguing themselves by alighting 
and resuming their seats, that they literally seem to lounge 
over half the world in the act, to wave several scepters in 
a diminutive fan or parasol, and to proclaim, in even the 
lift of an eyelid or the wag of a forefinger : " Good nobodies 
who look, I am the Lady Dash or the Honorable Mrs. As- 
terisk — porcelain to your filthy clay — lilies and rose-leaves 
to your miserable ordinary shrubs. The world is mine, 
and the fullness thereof; and you ought to offer up perpetual 
thanksgivings that I self-denyingly permit you to pollute 
the same atmosphere by breathing it." 



HYDE PARK AXD PABLIAME2^T. 299 

Is this bitter ? I think not — I certainly do not intend it 
to be so, for the whole thing is rather amusing than the re- 
verse — amusing, because " everybody does so " when the 
opportunity offers. Give American ladies the same descent 
(real or pretended), the same wealth and surroundings, and 
they would probably be even greater fools, as are some of 
them to-day without the excuse ! ISTo — no bitterness, nor 
even a word of ill-nature ; let us secure the very tastiest 
open-carriage and liveried driver attainable by the disburse- 
ment of a couple of twin sovereigns, go and be as magnifi- 
cently silly as the silliest, just so far as our own feeble 
powers will allow, doing Rotten Row and the Ladies' Mile 
of Hyde Park at say six o'clock, when the sun is lowering 
towards the trees of the West End and yet lacks two hours 
of its setting. 

Am I about to paint you Hyde Park ? I trow not, for 
two reasons- — one that I have never been enough its habitue 
to even fix its topographical divisions ; the other, that there 
is no occasion. Understood, the splendid drives of the 
southern edge, dignified with the undignified name ; given 
a very pleasant June afternoon, clear and scarcely oppres- 
sive even in the open sunshine ; a thousand occupied carria- 
ges and five hundred horsemen and horsewomen ; all the 
appointments, equine and vehicular, unimpeachable and 
many of them magnificent, and the riders the most notable 
in rank, wealth, and fashion that even rich, pretentious, and 
title-loving old England, can furnish ; and required the 
result ! 

The result is somewhat too difiicult for a weak verbal 
arithmetician : it might puzzle even a stronger. It can 
only be hinted at, not given. To meet, follow, or pass, for 
miles, a constant succession of carriages — nearly all open — 
ajl tastefully appointed, and nineteen-twentieths bearing 
coronets on their panels, or displaying as crest some mailed 
arm, beast, bird, fish, star, or mythological monstrosity from 



300 PARIS 12^ ■>G7. 

the wonderful collection which England has been laying 
tip ever since the Battle of Hastings — all the vehicles redo- 
lent of powdered coachman and liveried footman — all filled 
with people whose recognition is distinction and who have 
recognitions to give and receive continually — all moving at 
a pace not much faster than that of an impeded funeral, ow- 
ing to the crush, press, the helmeted policemen and un- 
helmeted proprieties, — to meet and follow and pass through 
all this, returning the fire of such batteries of eyes as in- 
evitably rain shafts of blue lightning even on the lowliest, 
is not the easiest of things to do with equanimity. 

English blonde beauty is a well-understood entity, and 
yet I am inclined to believe that there is not considered, to 
be quite enough of it — else there would scarcely be so 
much seasoning with it of homeliness or marhed decadence. 
For there really are so many of the lumpier kind of 
dowagers in those carriages — so many, though markedly 
fewer, as becomes the climate, of the sallow, parchmenty, 
angular, old-maidish ; and the handsomest of the daughters 
of nobility are so mevitably sandwiched among and. along- 
side them, that the motive cannot be any thing else than 
leavening the one or foiling the other. Here and there, 
to be sure, there will be an open carriage sacred at once to 
Venus and Diana — its occupants merely a cluster of high- 
bred, clear-complexioned, blue-eyed, blonde-tressed, baby- 
handed girls, the " wealthy curled darlings " of a nation 
indeed, glancing upon whom for a moment one feels tem- 
porarily inclined to recognize the force of the claims assert- 
ed for Saxon beauty as among the purest of types, and to 
admit that there is something in generation after genera- 
tion of culture, ease, well-instructed exercise, and high- 
breeding. Such, I know, was my own feeling at a certain 
moment of our " Park-day," when I fell in love at once 
with the three golden-haired and violet-eyed daughters of 
the Earl of (the crest on their carriage confirming 



HYDE PARK AKD PARLIAMENT. 301 

tbe identity), thereby abjuring Lady Harriet H , sister 

of Baron , whose long auburn curls and sweet brown 

eyes had held me prisoner for the preceding five minutes, 
captivated at the same instant in one of the " crushes " 
when Anna Maria struck " all of a heap " the young Duke 
of , setting him galloping off out of the press to dis- 
cover " who was the elegant creature, newly burst on 
London society, whom he had just seen riding with those 
two distinguished-looking middle-aged persons, evidently 
foreign noblemen if not princes !" 

Let rae say, here and approvingly, that the English ladies 
of condition, especially the yoimg ladies, dans le pare as 
en promenade^ do not seriously overdress and sink subordi- 
nate to their silks, velvets, laces, and flowers, — and that 
the lesson might be read elsewhere with advantage. And 
then I must leave the carriage-riders, only pausing to re- 
mark that the ladies do not occupy the carriages alone, but 
that their male companions, or the gentlemen who sulk on 
cushions without female companionship, are generally past 
middle age, and many of them white-headed, white-side- 
whiskered, heavy, and respectable, with a sprinkling of 
foreign-looking persons (of the Diplomatic Corps, prob- 
ably) almost always riding alone and somewhat affecting 
covered carriages, besides making an un-English display 
of orders in the button-hole. The young men of England 
do not ride through the Park in carriages, as do not a large 
proportion of their sisters and fiances ; and this brings 
us to the question of where they are meanwhile. 

Youngr Enecland as well as much of Middle-ao^ed Eng^- 
land, male, rides on horseback and rides splendidly ; and 
so does a very large proportion of Young England, female. 
Nowhere else, except on the hunting-field, is horseman- 
ship considered of as much consequence as in the Park ; 
and Ned Sothern competes with the Prince of Wales for 
supremacy in " park-hacks." And at the fashionable hour, 



302 PARIS IX '67. 

wlien all the carriages are in motion, tliere may be seen 
such a gallant show of equestrians and equestriennes^ reined 
up in loose military order along the Row, giving and re- 
ceiving salutations, chatting, oceasionally caracoling, flirt- 
ing with whip and bridle, then breaking away into knots 
and couples for a trot or a gallop along the "Mile" — as 
cannot well be matched elsewhere in the healthy vitality 
and excellent horsemanship which it displays. Ever and 
anon at some carriage-door a horseman reins up, lifts his 
hat, pays a compliment or holds a moment's conversation, 
then passes on, butterfly-like, to the next flower that oflers 
the honey of admiration or the wax of policy. Handsome 
and distinguished-looking fellows, many of these, even if 
they do have the disadvantage of bearing title and posi- 
tion ; and thoroughly in accord with good horses, nearly 
all; just as among the fliir equestriennes may be seen 
pretty faces, flying curls, willowy figures (when the years 
have not been too many), graceful seat and carriage, and 
an enviably-excellent bridle-hand. A charming pendant to 
the Park array, these healthier rivals of the sedentary and 
the inert, — even if there should chance to be among them 
some who ride too well, w^ho make too pronounced a dis- 
play in attitude and costume, and who awake the suspicion 
if not the certainty attached to the " pretty horse-breaker." 
And if there should even be some of the latter, be sure 
that roue as well as titled male England is on horseback, 
and that the balance of doubt will not lie with the weaker, 
softer, vainer, better sex ! 

Ah me ! — I thought, as we finally wheeled northward for 
a less-crowded drive through Regent's Park and around 
the cheap-romance-celebrated neighborhood of St. John's 
Wood — ah me ! — what a world of youth, beauty, rank, 
fortune and all the advantages, rides through Hyde Park 
of a pleasant summer-evening ; and yet what a task would 
be that of Asmodeus, peeping beneath the trees and un- 



HYDE PARK AND PARLIAMENT. 303 

roofing heads instead of houses, to discover how much of 
the youth and beauty was up for bargain and sale in the 
markets of rank, pohtical power, or necessity — how many 
comedies or even tragedies might be weaving along Rot- 
ten Row or the Ladies' Mile, with plots wilder and more 
complicated than those shown to the public eye at the Kew 
Royalty or the Surrey ! 



xxy. 

BETWEEN FRANCE AND ENGLAND. 

" Twice told tales " may be very good things in the 
hands of genius ; they are by no means inevitably so in 
those of mediocrity. Result : I, who have before attempted 
to describe crossing the British Channel, with the sights, 
sounds, and sensations peculiar to that proceeding, must 
be very chary of words in dealing again with the same 
subject. Yet with two transits involved in the supple- 
mentary travel of 1867, at least some mention of incident 
and observation seems inevitable. 

My crossing from ISTewhaven to Dieppe, early in July, 
had two or three notable features : the first, that through 
it the Captain, Anna Maria, and myself, till then a trio of 
undiluted Americanism, made the acquaintance of Young 
Hawesby, Yorkshireman by birth, and Londoner by stu- 
dent matriculation, who thenceforth, so to speak, " hooked 
on," and made the combination Anglo-American — to the 
pleasure and profit of all. Much the merrier and more en- 
joyable were many after-hours, for the stout-figured, broad- 
faced, frank, conscientious, jolly young English blending 
of the yeoman and gentleman, who ran down with us that 
day from London to Nev/haven, and took his first little 
" queerness " of the stomach and whitening of the com- 
plexion, under the sympathy of so many of us as had any 
of that article to spare. The second notable feature, that I 
at last saw Anna Maria in a different aspect from any io 



ON TEE CEAKKEL. 305 

which I had before beheld that vivacious lady : all former 
views had been superficial; but I think I may say 
that on that occasion I became acquainted with her other- 
wise than externally. The third, that I was thrown into 
contact with N'arrowood, scion of the great house that did 
not receive the fiirst honors at the Paris Exposition for 
the manufacture of hand-organs — with Lizzie, and with 
one other. 

A calmer noon, in wind and sea, than that at which we 
stepped on board the good iron paddle-wheeler Marseille, 
and steamed out of ISTewhaven harbor, away from Beachy 
Head and the "white cliffs" generally, for Dieppe, need 
not have been prayed for by the veriest "old woman" 
who ever tempted a mill-pond. A rougher sea and a stiffer 
gale than those in which we passed the last three hours of 
the run to the French coast, need not have been invoked 
by the most legitimate descendant of the Vikings. I have 
before essayed to describe the peculiar motions and sensa- 
tions of rough weather on the Channel, and shall not re- 
peat the attempt. The Marseille — fine boat of English 
build, and principally of English management — took the 
whole thing as a matter of course, and made no more com- 
plaint than a duck would have done at a little more water 
failing into his puddle ; but not so with very many of her 
passengers ! 

The Governor (who feebly affects the " old salt ") pro- 
phesied a gale at Newhaven, insisted upon one at mid- 
channel, and was frightenedly-jubilant when he eventually 
found the " boots" for which he had been "looking under 
the bed." The Captain had not been so hilarious since he 
left the deck of his own little steamer, years before. He 
was as happy as a retired pugilist at unexpectedly behold- 
ing a neat " little mill." Young Hawesby turned green, 
like the sea which troubled him, but, spite of his arithmeti- 
cal and mathematical education, had difficulty in " casting 



806 PARIS IN ^67. 

up his accounts, though none in making his reckoning. 
And Anna Maria 

It is only by degrees that we come to the knowledge of 
the real qualities of others. By a chance word, Melissa 
arrives at the late and painful certainty that Adolphus 
once " loved another," only a dozen or two of years before, 
and that thenceforth she must be miserable during her 
balance of life. Through muttered sentences, in dreams, 
Adolphus discovers whose was the suspicious form watched 
years before under Julia's window, and receives confirm a^ 
tion of his comfortable jealousy ; and in like manner Banker 
Joseph betrays to ears that he might not trust so readily 
of his own will, the secret of dishonored notes and impend- 
ing bankruptcy. Far be it from the present veracious 
chronicler to say that Anna Maria 

That sentence, too, must be left unfinished. Why should 
I indicate what revelations A. M. made in the first desolate 
upheavals of a sea-sickness defied on the Atlantic to be 
met and succumbed to on the Channel ? Such unwilling 
confidences should have the sacredness of intentional ones, 
with the truly conscientious. What if the somewhat 
startling knowledge did come to the ears of both the Cap- 
tain and the Governor, while A, M. lay supine but painfully 
conscious on the shoulder of the latter, that she had been 
the cause of two duels and a suicide, and v/as at that mo- 
ment under three tacit engagements of marriage, without 
intending to wed at all, unless she married a fourth? Were 
not these trifling admissions accompanied by raild objurga- 
tions of the sea, and everybody and every thing connected 
with it, placid requests to be thrown overboard, and other 
symptoms of— well, say derangement^ without specifying 
the locality of the disorder ! And when hysterics came, 
with two hours of maudlin'laughter, only to be conquered 
by enough nameless soporific applications to have drugged 
a dragoon — who will credit that she was really laughing at 



Olsf THE CHANNEL. 307 

the recollection of her last offer from an exquisite in tight 
trousers, who split the knees of the trousers aforesaid in 
the act of kneeling, and was obliged to receive his refusal 
and vacate the room without rising from that j)OSture ! 
All this, believing the best of the usually-vivacious but 
temporarily-proslTate lady, may be thought of, but must 
not be told : let the mantle of silence fall over it in this 
manner. 

Meanwhile, it must not be supposed that A. M. was the 
only female victim of the lively Marseille. Here and there 
a plucky little English woman " held her own " in the best 
sense ; but almost all the French and other continentals, 
and most even of the Britons, bowed to the fell destroyer. 
The worst of it was that as the wives and fiancees grew 
helpless, the husbands arid lovers grew correspondingly 
neglectful, from " causes over which (probably) they had 
no control," and that most of the females, consequently, 
one by one fell prone on the decks and seemed to be moan- 
ing away their lives, while they were certainly exhausting 
vitality in a mg-nner more easily imagined than described, 
without being even able to raise the head under so obvious a 
necessity ! At about six p. m. the after-deck of the Mar- 
seille presented the appearance of a battle-field of the 
Amazons, in which the weapons had been emetics and no- 
body victors, while finery was much bedraggled and be- 
spattered, and calls for unaflbrded help came chokingly in 
more lang-unoces than ever entered the dreams of the 
"Learned Blacksmith." Here a fat English dowager 
call-ed " John !" who did not come, and bewailed her ever 
trusting herself on that "narsty channel," John (as I hap- 
pened to notice) being at the moment fiendishly sick over 
an ineffectually-solacing glass of 'arf and 'arf, near the 
cook's galley; there a young French woman, with her 
flower-garden of bonnet lying mined in an unsavory pool, 
and her black hair streaming wide amid all, called 



308 PARIS /i^ '67. 

" Alphonse !" and " mon ami!" with other phrases of her 
vernacular, and declared her intention of dying then and 
there, in tones that would have moved the pity of any 
lover not suffering under the 7naladie de mer ; and one 
sharp-nosed woman (I helieve that she was insane in 
hysterics) swore, to a degree horrifying even to the coarse- 
faced brute who seemed to call her wife ; and some bawled 
like children, in mingled fear and suffering ; and others 
merely moaned, being beyond fear and in hopeless suffer- 
ing only ; and the Governor — . 

Nobody has ever accused the Governor, I think, of do- 
ing many benevolent or many useful things ; perhaps he 
would not have done either, on that occasion, but for a sort 
of defiant propensity to swim up-stream whenever he can 
catch the tendency of the tide. But whatever the motive, 
it is worth noting that the official actually amused himself 
by going around to the neglected females on the after-deck, 
when Anna Maria had been at last disposed of, — hfting up 
the head of each, for an indefinite period (think of this be- 
ing done without an introduction !) and then laying each 
down again and passing on to the next. H(tw many quasi 
embraces he achieved in this manner, or what were the 
sensations which thrilled his "manly bosom" while so ad- 
mitted to the more delicate confidences of womanhood, who 
shall dare to calculate ? 

Meanwhile Lizzie stood much of the time at the after- 
companion-way, or on the steps thereof, sometimes holding 
on to the rail and at others not even taking that precaution, 
— ^her jaunty short red dress prettily supplemented by the 
neat ankles and trim high boots showing beneath, and her 
half-laughing girlish-face, under her natty ribboned tar- 
paulin, at once one of the sweetest and most melancholy 
things that I ever saw, taking all the circumstances into 
consideration. For Lizzie was not alone — oh, how much 
better had she been ! — how much better had she been the 



ON THE CHANNEL. 309 

loneliest poor soul on earth, than what she too evidently 
was : the despised, disregarded, ill-treated girl-mistress and 
plaything of a wealthy drunkard and brute ! The brute 
was Narrowood, of the red whiskers and the brandy-flushed 
face that had once been wholesome-looking enough though 
never manly — ^^jubilant-drunk over his tin medal for hand- 
organs, at the Exposition, and going to some one of the 
French ports to resume his yacht. He had a dog with him, 
collared and chained, and carried the chain in his hand. 
Between his rapid repetition of drinks and his running 
against and half insulting passengers, he sometimes drunk- 
enly caressed the dog, the more valued of his two " prop- 
erties ;" but when poor Lizzie would presume to lay her 
hand on his arm, ashamed to see him so disgracing human- 
ity, and say : " Oh, don't ! — please don't, Chris. ! — you 
mustn't do that, you know !" — then the beast would snap 
at her like the cowardly cur that he was, and tell her to 

" hold her d d jaw !" and "get out of the way !" and 

more than once pushed her rudely from him ; while she, 
poor, fallen, and lost, and not even quite sober, though so 
far above him — would shrink back and look at him so 
sadly and humbly and pleadingly that the heart which did 
not bleed for her must have been either very hard or — very 
full of the precepts of " modern Christianity." 

Lizzie (I heard the brute call her name, in his tipsy way) 
was French, I think, by birth ; and had evidently been 
made a victim by the rich English roue so fast turning in- 
to the drunkard, while in the ignorant and defenseless 
school-girl period. Indeed, she was not far past it at the 
moment when I saw her ; and the face as plainly told of 
natural goodness as natural want of defensive strength. 
She had been tempted by something that seemed above 
her in wealth and station ; she had fallen, even into some 
of the bad habits of her betrayer; but she was not all cor- 
rupted, even yet ; and oh, what a penalty she was paying 1 



3i0 PARIS IN '67. 

To be lost from the path and hope of womanhood, was 
quite enough, one would have thought ; but to be lost for 
such a thmg as that I — to be less than his dog to something 
less than a dog ! 

More than once, during the early part of the run, I saw 
a tall, dark-haired and brown-complexioned man, whom I 
believed to be an Ameiican, but without being quite sure 
of the fact, watching the two and their relations, with evi- 
dently no good- will in his face towards the offensive 
Nabob of hand-organs. Once, later, when the sea was 
very heavy, I saw him approach the young girl as she stood 
heedlessly at the companion-way, and heard him address 
her with a most respectful warning, accompanied by a 
bowing lift of the hat that could not have been more pro- 
found before the highest lady in any land — begging her to 
be a little more careful of her hold and footing, or she 
mio^ht chance to take an awkward tumble. She thanked 
him, in good English but with a French patois^ though re- 
marking that she was an old sailor, and scarcely adopting 
his suggestion. And at that moment, just as I had decided 
from the voice and manner that this man was an Ameri- 
can, Narrowood stumbled up the steps, leering drunkenly 
and dragging his dog, — saw the two in conversation and 
perhaps heard that they were speaking, and pushed Lizzie 
out of the way with the customary oath. I saw the brow 
of the American darken a little dangerously, as he turned 
away ; but that was all. 

We were nearing Dieppe, and smoothing our water by 
coming under the lee of the French coast ; and people who 
had recovered strength enough were getting out the small 
baggage that had been temporarily carried below to keep 
it from the rain. The American, coming up with a travel- 
ing-bag and stout stick, met I^arrowood at the head of 
the stair, and the latter drunkenly jostled against him. I 
aaw his hand grip and then relax, as if he so wanted to an- 



ON THE CHANNEL. 311 

nihilate the beast but lacked excuse and was not quite clear 
as to the duty. Just then a drunken gleam of recollection 
seemed to go over the face of ISTarrowood, and he ac- 
costed the Americ-an with offensive familiarity, slapping the 
latter's stick two or three times with his own, to give his 
remark point: "Humph I you are the man that talks to 
other people's women, are you !" — " I am the man that do not 
talk to you, at all events !" I heard the American reply, 
hoarsely and evidently controlling himself by an effort. 
" Oh, I see — a d — d Yankee, with your airs ! — pretty stock 
of pirates, you are!" was the response of the Englishman. 
In half a minute thereafter, I think he was the worst- 
frightened man I ever saw, as he would certainly have 
been the worst punished had not poor Lizzie rushed be- 
tween, and with her pleading eyes and broken appealing 
speech sheltered him who deserved that mercy so little. 
The American sprang toward Narrowood, then checked 
himself as the slight form came between with its: " Oh, 
Monsieur ! — pray don't ! Oh, Chris ! Chris I" and the 
drunken beast staggered backward. But if the threaten- 
ing hand was checked the tongue was not, and I have never 
before heard such a sermon in a few words as came from 
his angry lips at the next instant, albeit some of the ex- 
pressions were by no means canonical. Half the passen- 
gers heard it, I think, and sympathized in the righteous in- 
dignation ; the brute certainly heard it, and grew white as 
the canvas covering the luggage-heap. I wish that I could 
set down all the phrases, but I cannot, though I remem- 
ber them remarkably well : some of them were too much 
of the Harney and Hancock pattern for type. 

" You call me a * d — d Yankee,' do you, you infernal 
English thief and beast !" he rather growled than spoke, 
while there was something of the tiger just ready to 
spring in every lineament and gesture. " You touch me 
with your stick, do you, you drunken dog that the decent 
14 



312 PARIS IN '67. 

dog ought to be asliamed to follow ! Look at that girl, 
too good to wipe her shoes on your filthy carcass in spite 
of what you have made her; and then even speak to a 
white man again ! Ever put yourself in my way again, or 
open your mouth to me, or wink at me, or let me see that 
you know that I live, and by " (no matter who or what) 
" I will revenge that poor girl and the British nation that 
you outrage with your miserable, drunken, vagabond, 
scoundrelly life, by choking you as I would a rattlesnake or 
drowning you as I would a blind puppy !" 

Narrowood, drunk as he was, evidently believed that 
the indignant man meant what he said ; and so did poor 
Lizzie, and so did the passengers who overheard. He 
tried to mumble an apology, but only gabbled, and Lizzie 
(oh, that clinging attachment of woman to the worthless 
once loved !) drew him away, and thus ended the scene. 
Entering Dieppe harbor and landing came only a few 
minutes later, and I saw neither of the three any more ; 
but I think that others than myself learned with gratifica- 
tion an hour after, at the Hotel de I'Europe, that the drun- 
ken beast had tumbled over from the gang-plank while 
landing, come near to anticipating the "blind-puppy" 
doom threatened by the American, and only been saved 
with difiaculty, half-drowned and temporarily-sobered, by 
the boatmen, who plunged reluctantly after him under the 
incitement of poor Lizzie's wringing hands and pleading 
cries. 

Strangely enough, the only peculiar sensation of my return 
passage, by Calais and Dover, has to do with another 
drunken man ! Almost the only peculiar sensation, I 
should have written ; for was there not something worth 
remembering in my first sight of those very old crumbling 
walls and gates of Calais, the very same once delivered to 
English Edward, with the keys on a cushion and ropeg 
around the necks of Eustace de St. Pierre and the other 



ON TEE CEANNEL. 313 

French knights, when of good Queen Philippa of Hai- 
nault and her mercy it was said : " Edward may own 
cities, but it is Philippa who conquers hearts !" And are 
not the railway omnibuses of Calais to be remembered, 
with their " Nothing for fare, gentlemen, but something 
for the driver ;" and the little baggage-beggars, more plen- 
tiful and more persistent than even in New York; and the 
shabby and tumble-down long pier, down which they 
are going to have a rail some day in the coming centuries ; 
and the low-lying white -funnel ed steamers at the high 
pier; and the tubby, round-bowed black luggers with "C. 
786," or some other number, in great white letters on either 
bow ; and low " Calais Sands " at a little distance, where 
bathing and duels have been almost equally frequent at 
water and shore edges ? And is it not worth something, — 
even through the driving rain of a sudden gust that came 
too late to " kick up a sea," but made the skipper crawl 
funnily, feet foremost, into a tarpaulin bag, — to have seen 
tall white perpendicular Dover Cliffs, made immortal by a 
few words in " King Lear ;" and picturesque Dover Caslle 
crowning its circular knoll, but dominated by the mod- 
ern fortifications opposite — one of the most striking coast- 
scenes, in short, to be found in maldng approach to the 
rugged and rock-bound island? 

But of my drunken " Joe," on this return run, with a 
word of whom this rambling paper must perfoi*ce conclude. 

He was a rather good-looking and quite pleasant-looking 
man of forty or forty-five, with the handsomest of too- 
long dark beards, a spree-ish eye, two friends in company, 
a leathern hat-box and an umbrella. He came on board at 
Calais, already a little tipsy ; and he drank too often, all 
the while, so that I heard one of his friends warn him : 
" Joe, if you are not careful, you will be drunk !" He \oas 
drunk — very drunk, long before we reached Dover ; but as 
different in his drunkenness from the brute of whom I 



314 FARIS IN '67. 

liave lately made mentioD, as good-nature is from bestia- 
lity. As he grew tipsier he grew merrier, ana developed a 
singing propensity somewhat maiine in the character of 
its subjects. Then came the gust, with its fierce, quick 
rain, sending everybody below for shelter; and as I went 
down the companion-way I saw his two companions trying 
to induce " Joe " to leave his seat and follow. 

The rain partially ceased in about fifteen minutes, and 
the thick-booted and oil-clothed ruslied ag^ain on deck at 
once, as Dover Castle was within view. But not even the 
Castle could distract my attention from " Joe " at that 
moment. It was evident that his companions had failed 
to effect his removal, and beaten their own retreat ; and 
there he lay, in the two inches of water yet flooding the 
forward-deck, flat on his back, but his head supposedly shel- 
tered under the open slat-work of the side-seat, holding 
over him his umbrella for protection, while the wind had 
turned that implement inside out, and a rent near the han 
die sent down the whole stream thus collected, as through 
a funnel, into his face and neck. His hat-box, two or three 
feet from him, had- lost the lid, and the hat within was 
showing itself a water-proof by retaining about four inches 
of the liquid ; while the owner, evidently believing him- 
self sheltered, and happy beyond precedent, was clinging to 
his reversed umbrella, kicking up his heels like a school 
boy, and singing "Britannia rules the waves !" as well as 
could be efiected through the rain-water spluttering into 
his mouth. 

One of his friends coming up at the moment, and a deck 
hand assisting, "Joe " was extricated from his berth under 
the seat, and brought to a standing position, while I do 
not think that he additionally quavered a note in his lay 
on account of the removal. But, alas ! — our troubles are 
sometimes only begun when they seem to be ended : mak- 
ing a demonstration towards the cabin-door, he caught his 



ON TEE CEANNEL. 315 

foot in the combing, doubled up like a jack-knife blade in 
its handle, and the last that I saw of him he was disaj^pear- 
ing, head-foremost and feet upward, down the companion- 
way of La France's forward cabin. 

With which mi satisfactory last glimpse, this equally un- 
satisfactory second glimpse of the coasts, waters, boats and 
passengers '* between France and England," must fade 
away, and give place to other observations no less frag- 
mentary and desultory. 



XXYI. 

BIRD-FLIGHT IN" SWITZERLAND— PARIS TO GENEVA 

AND OHILLON. 

ISToT that the Governor, spite of his fragile physique, 
was a " bird," at any time during the brief Swiss cam- 
paign — not when the first papers of this rambling record 
rather threw themselves than were thrown into shape 
at Interlaken in late July — not even when he might 
have made some pretensions to belong to the feathered 
tribe, while wearing a two-feet wing-quill of the lammer- 
geyer, with a sort of dim fancy that it made him an Alpine 
hunter and warrior, after his fortunate discovery of that 
article at Giessbach on Brienz. 

'No — not that there was really any thing of the bird, 
either in lightness or grace, about either of the party, 
miraculously increased to six, who made the flight through 
Switzerland ; but simply because the progress ivas a flight : 
that two weeks between entering the land of blue lakes 
and snow-capped mountain?^, and taking departure there- 
from, is such a mere atom of time that the participants in 
it may well have supposed themselves ^wallows or rice- 
birds, making a long sweep from one climate to another. 
" Birds'-eye views," however, are sometimes thought ex- 
cellent as well as comprehensive ; let us hope that in the 
" bird-flight in Switzerland" at least a few features may 
have been observed, giving the brief relation some portion 



PARIS TO GEL'-EVA. 317 

of the enjoyability found in the travel which it commem- 
orates. 

Perhaps there was really no miracle in the " increase of 
the party to six," already spoken of. People with a pro- 
pensity to enjoyment as naturally drift together as the 
morose and mienjoying drift apart. The advent of Young 
Hawesby has been noted in the Channel experience of the 
tour; it only remains to introduce and describe Lady 
Eleanor and the Gipsy Queen, who made up the half 
dozen. 

Lady Eleanor had remarkably handsome eyes, while the 
rest of her was all so English, from her well-concealed 
form to her rebellious hair, as to well-nigh frighten a repub- 
lican. The Gipsy Queen was an elder sister, not nearly so 
handsome as L. E., somewhat stouter, and so much jollier, 
that my fancy of a whole-souled and go-ahead traveling 
companion will always henceforth be associated with the 
full, mature-looking mother's-face in embryo, and the mis- 
chievous furtive dark eye that could make the whole face 
handsome when it pleased. They were sisters — L. E. 
and the G. Q. — English, and traveling unattended; and a 
better fortune than generally attends him, ordained that 
on the very evening of the day on the afternoon of which 
the Governor had fallen in love with Lady Eleanor's eyes 
at the dinner-table of the Paris hotel, the two were intro- 
duced as traveling companions on the way to Switzerland. 
How gladly the Governor embraced (not Lady E., but) the 
proposal, and proceeded to show his authority as " guide, 
philosopher, and friend," by ruling out all trunks, and ar- 
ranging to rout up the whole party by four-and-a-half in 
the morning ; all this is of no consequence : it only remains 
to say, that probably he (the G.) would not have proceeded 
BO hilariously, if he could have foreseen how Young 
Hawesby (Yorkshire) and Lady Eleanor (Derbyshire) 
would fall in love with each other " at sight," and go about 



318 FAEIS IN '67. 

billing and cooing, tLencefortli, to the intense disgust of 
people who enjoyed no such privileges. 

But all this is, strictly speaking, a "bird-flight" into 
the realms of love-making, instead of toward Switzerland. 
Nor boots it to tell, at any length, how we whirled away 
from Paris with the Fourth of July shouts of the rampant 
Americans yet ringing in our ears — by Fontainebleau and 
Dijon, for Geneva, over a pleasant flat coun>try, with many 
of the Mohawk Valley features, but the wealth of vines 
showing that we could not be anywhere else in America 
than in the neighborhood of Cincinnati. How we were 
for a long time running beside the pleasant, shady-banked, 
winding Seine, showing much of the same rural character 
here, afterward displayed around Rouen ; then beside the 
Yvonne, a yet flatter-banked stream, with some of the very 
oldest of the old cottages of France breaking into view 
here and there, and the oddest of antiquated conveyances, 
agricultural and other, following the hard, cream-colored, 
Lombardy-poplared roads. How we ate (according to Lady 
Eleanor) a "thundering good dinner" at the noonday 
Rtopping-place, the queer old town of Tonnerre (heedless 
people are respectfuU}^ requested to look a little closely after 
the joke therein hidden) ! How, below Dijon and Chalons- 
sur-Saone, we found yet more willows, of a stripped and 
whip-stocky character, giving a peculiar and not very 
pleasant feature to the landscape, but charming valleys and 
rolling hills, with the vine of Southern France more and 
more plentiful everywhere, and a long, irregular blue line 
on the eastern horizon, marking the distant Jura, and 
thrilling the pulses with the reality of approaching the 
Switzerland of so many dreams and so much expectation- 
How we came, as nightfall approached, beside the beauti- 
ful, quiet, low green-banked Saone, reminding one of the 
Lower Mohawk, and sometimes of the Merrimac — and to 
Macon, of the vinous celebrity, lying thereon, with its 



PARIS TO GE2TEVA. 319 

handsome bridge; and shade of poplars lining hoth sides 
of the river; and shabby and rickety little steamboat (the 
"Etoile") just come up from Lyons ; and public ground 
along the river, wherein the people gathered, and the mu- 
sic sounded, and the merry go-rounds tried to emulate the 
Champs Elysees during that pleasant summer evening. 
How we came to the Hotel de I'Europe, with its slippery 
red-tiled passages, and handsomely-old-furnished chambers, 
where even the presence of Lord Clarence Paget, on his 
way to Constantinople, did not prevent the American no- 
bility being well received and cared for. How we saw the 
handsome old church, and saw rather than heard the morn- 
ing prayers of the old and poor, in the charming Gotlnc 
interior, for which even the beautiful towers scarcely pre- 
pared us ; and saw the fine old antique Madonnas, filling 
the old niches along the narrow streets ; and entered the 
dingy shops of Macon, and saw how they ground coffee 
and cut beet-root sugar into convenient pieces with a pair 
of shears ; and made the acquaintance of the dark-com- 
plexioned Southern Frenchwomen, with their queer flats 
and black caps, and wooden-covered jars of milk, carried 
on sticks, like so many pendent fish ; and also made the 
acquaintance of the crumbling old fountain, and the humble 
poor who crawled around it like so many earth-worms 
seeking the warm sunshine in a damp place ; and voted 
the old town a pleasant thing to do, and left it regretfully. 
Regretfully, and yet how willingly — for were we not 
approaching Switzerland ? Not directly, for they swept 
us away westward, to our change at Bourg, as if we had 
been going to the Mediterranean — then gave us a few 
pretty glimpses of the Saone, with some rough hills at the 
left, and changed us again at a place with prettier name 
than features — Amberieux (which is nothing, by the way, 
until one hears a French railway-guard speak it) ; then 
detained us unreasonably, as if we could afford to wait 
14* 



320 PARIS IN '6 7. 

for our great pleasure till another train came by for Culoz 
and Geneva. 

But we had our compensation. Hundreds, they tell me, 
go on from Paris to Geneva, doing the latter part of the 
journey by night, and missing the valley of the Rhone ! — 
they miglit as well go from Buffalo to Toronto by night 
and miss the Suspension Bridge an^ Niagara ! For more 
magnificent passes than those which begin almost immedi- 
ately after leaving Amberieux for Culoz, no route on earth 
can supply — the marvelous grape-vine-studded side-hills, 
with the old cottages hanging on the slopes, roughening to 
overhanging cliffs of really awful height and grandeur, 
under which the whirlina: train seems nothins; but an atom 
to be crushed at any moment. Here an old castle, crown- 
ing a sharp eminence evidently once very strong, now crum- 
bled away like the feudal power that originally held it ; 
then the very old and picturesque hamlet of St. Rambert- 
en-Bougy, tower-crowned, and dominated by a colossal 
white statue that must supply ghosts to all the women and 
children ; then ranges of rocks thrust skyward, so worn 
into resemblance to house-gables and circular towers that 
they scarcely seem possible to be the work of nature ; 
then the very steepest and most pokerish down-grade that 
ever a nervous man rode over, in and out among the hills, 
but ever seeming to be shooting downward to infinitesimal 
smasb, and hindering the eye a little in its surveys of the 
glorious scenery opening ahead — all the way to Rosillon. 
Then white chalk roads, with a better level, and blouses 
and donkeys painfully plentiful (for neither the French 
peasant nor his donkey is handsome !) by Artemart to 
Culoz, about which latter inconsequential town I might 
have known something if I had been going anywhere 
else than to Switzerland ! 

It is at Culoz that the ascent of the valley of the Rhone 
really commences — blessed is Culoz that opens such a door 



PARIS TO GENEVA. 321 

to all that is roughly magnificent in scenery ! For what 
pen can indicate, or what pencil can convey more than a 
few detached glimpses, of that splendid chaos over and 
under and through v»^hich the railway passes along the 
southern side of the sky-reaching Jura range — here the 
gray, chalky, rapid Rhone rashing two or three huudred 
feet below, between perpendicular, crooked, rocky banks, 
maiwelously Hke those of Niagara below the Falls — rapids 
and cascades whitely seen in flying glimpses ; there the 
same river between low green banks, calm and modest as 
it had before been wild and dashing; here the road run- 
ning on the edge of a precipice of dizzy height, or sweep- 
ing over a trellis bridge spanning a gulf with cobweb 
lightness ; there becoming subterranean instead of aerial, 
and crawling rapidly under mile after mile of dark tunnel 
that seemed to make the existence of outer daylight doubt- 
ful ; scarcely a foot of level from which the construe ting-engi- 
neer could have taken a departure for depression or eleva- 
tion. Oh, what a tr'umpli of engineering is that railway 
from Culoz to Geneva ! — though the exclamation may seem 
to come gratuitously from a citizen of the republic mak- 
ing playthings of the AUeghanies, the Rocky Mountains, 
and the Sierra I^evada, and at a time when the Alps them- 
selves are being railway-climbed without and railway-tun- 
neled within. All this shall not prevent my repeating — 
what a triumph of engineering is that railway from Culoz 
to Geneva ! — or keep me from adding, that the ride is one 
of the most magnificent yet compassed on the face of the 
globe. 

For before we came to the neat little station of B -lie- 
garde (Ain), and learned that we were crossing from France 
into Switzerland, the mountains southeastward began to 
rise higher and higher— sharp-peaked and rugged, pointing 
skyward, though as yet no snow capped theii' awful sum- 
mits. Then came the crowning moment when wo dashed 



323 PARIS I IT '67. 

over tlie latticed bridge of Chancy-Pougny, with its glances 
backward over tbe deep-banked, rapid, " arrowy Rhone," 
— and when, turning the gaze southeastward again, there 
came that sensation, not twice repeated, I think, in life, 
and which I find hurriedly dashed in my note-book, with 
a very trembling hand, but underscored as if nothing less 
than the strongest of small-caps could do it justice — " first 

GLIMPSE OF THE SNOW-CEOWNED SHARP PEAKS ABOVE THE 
CLOUDS !" 

Mountains and descriptions of mountains have been the 
Governor's idols and pet literature, since the day when he 
first learned, at school, what was the meaning of the gene- 
ric word. They have come to him, as realities, gradually; 
and it is to be doubted whether he has not gradually be- 
come a greater fool on the subject, in corresponding pro- 
gression. One day — now many a long year ago — he 
caught his first view of mountains proper, in the beautiful 
blue line of the Cattskills from the Hudson. Thenceforth 
the mountains of. all the world filled his nightly dreams, 
for weeks, and an awful shadowy presence loomed over his 
eyes by day. Years afterward, when his foot had become 
familiar with the tops of most of the American minor 
ranges, one day he went half-mad over the first grand re- 
vealment of Mount Yf ashington, giant of Eastern America, 
heaving up its mighty dusky cone against the sky ; and 
some of the common-sense people then in the carriage with 
him, talked of tying him as a lunatic ! That day when 
many of the mountains of the Old World had become only 
less familiar, but the pleasure of pleasures had been so far 
deferred — that day, on the high-level beside the Jura and 
over the Rhone, as the great mountains of Savoy thrust up 
their glittering spires heavenward, the Aiguillettes so many 
needles of cloudless ivory piercing the clouds, and one 
awful mass of snow-bank, broader-coned, clumsy-shaped, 
but unspeakably majestic, heaving itself so far into the 



PARIS TO GENEVA. 323 

empyrean, though then so very, very distant, that the pass- 
ing cloud-swales seemed to be bathing its feet instead of 
its massive shoulders or pearl-white brow — then he went 
entirely mad : madder than he will ever he again until he 
looks upon opalesque Mount Hood in Oregon, or makes a 
distant peep of the Himalayas part of his projected (very 
much "projected," i. e., thrust forward) tour around the 
globe. Forgetting, not time and place, but propriety, he 
sprang up, like the madman that he was, and tried to get 
out of the window of the flying railway-carriage, while 
Young Hawesby, alarmed, seized one leg and the Captain 
grappled him mercifully by the collar — sprang up, eyes 
ablaze, face very dirty, andhair as nearly on end as it could 
be for the admixture of railway-dust, and screamed out : 
"My God! — that is Mont Blanc! — I know it! can such 
things be, that the mountains really reach to heaven !" 

The Captain was shocked, as well he might be, and held 
on to the collar of the ofiender ; Anna Maria (one of the 
dearest lovers of nature ever wasted within — hooped 
skirts) went a little mad in response, and tried to get out 
of the opposite window, where nothing whatever was to be 
seen ; Young Hawesby surveyed the wonder gravely, as was 
becoming to an Englishman and a student ; Lady Eleanor 
laughed, and expressed a doubt of the identity of the 
mountain ; and the Gipsy Queen, sympathetically moved 
when she had not yet been allowed to catch even a glimpse, 
had something very like tears in her fine eyes ; while a 
pleasant-faced Franco-Suisse lady, one of the only two 
strangers in the compartment, replying at once to the mad 
Governor and Lady Eleanor's doubt, said : '•^Jlonsieur a 
raison — c^est Mont Blanc; et le jour a beaucoiip de 
honheur pour la vue de la grande rnontagne : tons les nu- 
ances laissaient Id/" — " Comhien de distance de la grande 
'mo7itagne, madanief^ the dazed Governor found thought 
to ask, in addition to his thanks : " OA, quatre-vingt milles^ 



324 PARIS IN- '67. 

ou ceyit inilles^ possihlement ;" and then we knew that that 
stupendous snowbank, on which we could trace the ine- 
qualities of surface, and even occasionally catch the glitter 
of the sun on its crystals, was from eighty to one hundred 
miles away ! 

[IST. B. The Governor did not sing or shout : 

" Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains ; 
They crowned him long ago, 
On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, 
With a diadem of snow 1" 

Simply because he retained brain enough to remember that 
every one of the others was expecting him to fulfill that 
Byronian duty of the tourist approaching the snow-peaks 
of Savoy, l^o — any other weakness than the quotation of 
the finest of poems iu the most appropriate of places ; but 
that — never !] --^ 

On to Geneva, with that stupendous presence accom- 
panying ; to the Hotel de la Couronne, lying at the south 
side of the foot of the rapid-flowing, boisterous, sea-mim- 
icking, chalky-watered Lake Leraan, Lake of Geneva, 
Genfer See, or any one of the dozen other names with which 
geography and romance have combined to invest one of 
the loveliest sheets of water in the world, with settings 
magnificent beyond comparison. To find there the begin- 
ning of a succession of Swiss hotels, unimpeachable in 
every detail of luxury and convenience. To be told there 
that the view of Mont Blanc, already enjoyed, was 
entirely exceptional, and that nothing more could possibly 
be seen of the monarch through the gathering clouds of 
that evening. To wander out into the fine Jardin Anglais 
lying on the verge of the lake, almost immediately in front 
of the Couronne, and over bridges spanning the lake-foot, 
in a rare blending of convenience and indirection, lightness 
and stability, oddity and beauty — with Rousseau's garden 
thrown out from one, like an enlarged pier-head, vailed 



PARIS TO GENEVA. 305 

with drooping trees and spiral Lombardies, and gay with 
evening promenaders. To reach the other or western side 
of the lake, and, wandering up its tiny wave-beaten espla- 
nade, find the prophecy of Boniface ilhistrated in seeing 
Mont Blanc through so cloudless an atmosphere, and to 
such an advantage under the westering sun, that the Grands 
Mulcts, the Mer de Glace, and every larger detail of its 
wonderful structure, seemed almost within stone's-throw, 
and Young Hawesby volunteered to step the sixty or 
seventy miles across to the peak before supper and return 
in time for breakfast ! To stroll out on the long low stone 
breakwater, with a light-house at the end, which forms a 
shelter for the little harbor when the winds blow down 
the lake, and find the mimic seas breaking against and 
over it with no contemptible force, and danger of washing 
careless feet from the wet and slippery stone-work. To see 
the queer lateen-rigged lake schooners, high-pro wed, and a 
cross between the ISTorth River dirt-schooner and the 
Roman galley, coming down from the head of the lake, 
before the wind, with their distant appearance precisely 
that of a colossal jackass under water all but its head, 
and the big ears lolling ponderously ; to board one of them 
over the swapng long plank, with much shivering on 
the part of Lady Eleanor, much aplomb of carriage on 
that of the Gipsy Queen, and much effort to drown 
Young Hawesby by shaking him off, on the part of the 
Governor; and to find the "schooner" really little more 
than a decked mud-scow, and wonder where Cooper found 
space to stow all his heroes and all their luggage and mer- 
chandise, in his " bark " of similar character, setting sail 
from Geneva for Yilleneuve, in the graphic opening of his 
Swiss novel, " The Headsman." And then to watch the 
sunset and the radiant sky follo\\ang it, over the irregular 
dark line of the Jura, westward, — and to turn eastward 
to the unfailing cynosure, the " monarch of mountains," 



326 PARIS IN '67. 

and see it hold tlie sunliglit on its peak, long after the 
Aiguillettes and all the neighboring mountains had lost 
the rose-colored glow — then fade and darken gradually to a 
cool, grayish-white, solemn mass of indescribable sublimity, 
relieved against the fast-darkening sky southeastward. To 
feel the weight of making acquaintance with the great 
mountain — one more of the long-deferred goals of romantic 
hope reached at last ; and to carry that feeling even amid 
the flashing lights and fine music, and delighted crowds of 
the English Garden, with the lake sparkling and rippling 
at its edge, through an evening of concert revelry and 
promenade not easily crowded away by any thing similar 
in recollection. And then, to crown all, to steal out from 
the Couronne (some of us) at midnight, and cross the 
bridge again to the other side of the lake, and strain the 
eyes to catch just one glimpse of Mont Blanc under the 
ten-day moon — and to see it at last, a pale white phantom, 
the " shadow of a shade," yet seeming — like most of the 
terrors of human life — more awful in its vague dimness 
than it had been under the all-revealing eye of day. Think, 
those who can, what a day of sensations that had been ! — 
the Valley of the Rhone, the Lake of Geneva, the moun- 
tains of Savoy, all added within that brief space to the 
treasures of sight laid up in the storehouse of memory ! 

Geneva is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, 
for the sake of the mountains that gird it and the lake 
which spreads at its regal feet, if for no other. And even 
in itself it is very lovely, and full of interest, to those who 
pursue the picturesque and love the historical. I^arrower, 
crookeder, older-looking streets than those through which 
the climb is made to the Cathedral, around which clusters 
the old city, cannot be found short of Nuremberg : more 
antiquated-looking ones than those where cluster the queer 
arched- wind owed workshops, with their continual remind- 
ers, in the midst of dust and dinginess, that Geneva is 



PARIS TO a EN EVA. 327 

horologic and makes clocks and watches for half the world 
— cannot be found, I think, even in the center of conti- 
nental Europe. And the Cathedral itself is a glory in any 
• land — with its splendid clustered Gothic columns, affording 
such forest-like vistas; its old pulpit-canopy, beneath 
which St. Bernard, and Calvin, and John Knox, and Theo- 
dore Beza, and a hundred other lio-hts of the evano-elical 
world have first and last given forth their utterances; its 
broad slab-tombs in the pavement, beneath w^hich molder 
away Jean de Brognier, President of the memorable 
Council of Constance, and scores of men with only lesser 
names ; its recess tombs, in which and on which, dust and 
statue (some of the latter " in armor as [they] lived "), 
repose celebrity and nonentity, all the way from Duke 
Henry de Rohan downward ; its splendid windows of 
soft stained glass, some of them very old, and pilgrimages 
to lovers of art ; its low, soft, continued echoes through 
those forests of groined arches, making the voice resonant 
and the organ sweetly thunderous ; its rarest sun-dial in 
all Europe, under the heavy trees that keep the court-yard 
ever in solemn shade. 

All this is of the antique and the lazy ; and very appro- 
priate beside it are the street scenes and personnel — the 
brown, Swiss-looking men, shirt-sleeved and cross-bod- 
diced, who trudge up and down these steep, narrow ways, 
carrying w^ater in long tubs strapped upon the back ; the 
brow^ner and older-looking women, broad-hatted, evidently 
poor, and yet with a low content in their faces (as well as 
those of the men), which cannot be found among the peas- 
antry of all the countries of Europe (the Captain averred 
that the content arose from Switzerland being a republic — 
alone in a decent government, of all the continent, except 
poor little San Marino) ; its old open-air market, fine- 
fruited, and far enough south to bring in the ripe, fresh 
figs (which Anna Maria tried, with the result of puckered 



328 PA1RIS IK '6 7. 

lips, and a declaration that: "Ugh! they were a cross 
between tomatoes and persimmons !") 

There is a newer Geneva, and it lies near the lake, on 
both sides (old Geneva lying principally on the southern 
side of it). And that newer Geneva embraces the long 
esplanades bordering the lake, also on both sides, with 
their really wonderful array of first-class hotels, from 
several of which Mont Blanc is visible, and any one of 
which can supply " scenery " enough to content a tourist 
of moderate capacity. It embraces, too, the larger mercan-' 
tile houses, crowding down toward the lake, and the 
watch-manufactories, which probably send out more good 
time-pieces, and more bad ones, than those of any other 
city on the globe. And it is no small treat to one fond 
of minute mechanical researches, to run through such a 
factory as that of Pathek, Philippe & Co., adjoining the 
Couronne, and see how machinery has been made to per- 
form the most delicate of details, and how that which 
could never be done in moderate quantity at any moderate 
price, is cheaply accomplished at a comparative song when 
thousands of pieces are under preparation at once. [Jlem. 
The Captain brought away one of the handsomest watches 
in Geneva. I wish I knew how he could afford such lux- 
uries ! JC might have brought away one, too, if we had 
not been quite so closely "accompanied" dui'ing our pro- 
gress among the valuables !] 

It was one of the loveliest of mornings, when the 
stanch iron paddle-wheeler, the Aigle (appropriate name, 
among such mountains !) bore us away up the lake for 
Chillon, on her way to Yilleneuve, only a trifle beyond. 
Mont Blanc was gloriously clear again under the morn- 
ing sun, and, whenever the foot-hills woidd permit, gave us 
splendid glimpses of his snowy crown, more than half 
way up the lake. And what a sail was that (if "sail" it 
can be called, when sail there is none), going eastward on 



FAEIS TO GEN-EVA. 329 

that crescent of water, with the northern or circular side 
sweetly green and fertile, and studded with towns, vil- 
lages, and hamlets, the dark Jura range rising miles away, 
behind the intervale ; while on the southern side, close 
down to the water, came those precipitous cliffs which 
Cooper has well named the " ramparts of Savoy " — wild, 
rugged, forbidding, snow in the upper gulches of the 
chain, and behind and above them, at far too great a dis- 
tance to be calculated by the eye, the great snow chain, 
with Mont Blanc crowning all, dominating the whole, 
and giving the sublime that finish which ever seems to 
bring up the one word allying the scene to some special 
wonder of God's hand — awful ! I have said it before, and 
I repeat it: the Lake of Geneva is matchless in its moun- 
tain setting — a thing to be seen, felt, remembered while 
life lasts, but never described. 

By Coppet, by ^yon, by Ouchy (sacred to Byron, and 
with a Beau Rivage where something softening seems to 
woo the world-beaten to a residence of rest),\)j Lausanne 
and Yevay. All on the northern side of the lake ; for the 
Aigle and other birds of that iron-bosomed bi-ood have no 
occasion to cross to the sterile and rocky southern shore. 
Pleasant towns, villages, hamlets ; places to pause and 
linger at, did time permit and was there no Chillon. At 
last a little landing, when the upper end of the lake was 
nearly reached, and when the narrowing had brought us 
very near to those wonderful snow mountains of Savoy at 
the other side, while Villeneuve, only a few miles farther 
on, where the " arrowy Rhone " enters the lake, seemed 
to be a line of Lombardy poplars and very little more. 

The little landing was that of Yeytaux-Chillon ; the lit- 
tle hotel which we passed, rising the hill, a few moments 
later, bore the same name ; and twenty minutes of walk 
under the almost blistering sun brought us to the gateway 
of the chateau which we had seen rising from the water 



330 PAEIS IK '67. 

a picturesque confused mass of square and round towers 
on the very edge of the lake, and indeed hanging over it, 
while rugged, verdure-clad peaks frowned down in turn, 
from behind and above the chateau. 

The Castle of Chillon. Long the residence of the Dukes 
of Savoy, and worthy of visit and note for itself and for its 
mediaeval recollections ; and yet what would it have been, 
had not one Byron, one day after visitmg it, and when 
lounging, not too free in digestion just then, at what is now 
the "Hotel Byron" in the neighborhood, remembered the 
imprisonment of poor Savoyard Bonnivard there, and con- 
cluded to weave around him and the old pile a tissue 
of fancies which really belonged to neither ! He did so, 
however ; the " Prisoner of Chillon '' came forth (as its 
prototype had not done) to delight and pain the world ; 
and thenceforth the castle was to be a pilgrimage for all 
faces and all ages ! So much for genius and its vagaries 
—it is a capital thing for adding to the profits of guides 
and shopkeepers, in certain localities ; but I suspect that 
the less said of its influence upon historical knowledge, the 
better. 

What is the use of all this ? — the pilgrimage is a pilgrim- 
age, and the unconscious carper has been among the most 
devoted of the pilgrims. Did he (the Governor) and his 
companions not cross the rickety draw-bridge over the dark 
and weedy but now waveless moat ? — and crawl under 
every low arch shown them by the guide ; and learn with 
surprise what a grand old residence the Chateau must once 
have been, when the Dukes of Savoy made it one of the 
houses of their splendor ; and see the chamber once occu- 
pied by Louis le Debonnaire when a guest of the royal 
duke of his period j and pass through the vaulted-ceilinged 
chambers where the dukes and their duchesses used to 
receive guests, and dine, and sleep, and hold levees, and 
do their small modicum (in chapel) of military and other 



PARIS TO OEITEYA. 331 

praying ; and shiver within the dark and moldy ouhliettes 
(dungeons), some of the half-closed stairs of which yet 
give access to the lake, below its own level ; and think of 
the inevitable compensations of history, seeing the piled 
arms and battle-flags of the Helvetian Confederation, 
freest of European nations, with the crusading white 
cross on the red, and the significant motto: ^'-Liberie et 
JPatrie /" in that very grand old vaulted chamber where 
once irresponsible despotic power made the men of the 
Cantons tremble at its nod ; and come at last to the 
cheerless Chamber of the Condemned, where the doomed 
passed their last not-too-comfortable night — and then to 
one succeeding, scarcely more cheerless, albeit it contained 
a ready gallows and a trap-door for " chucking " the new- 
ly-made corpses into the lake — and then to that of Bonni- 
vard, the scene of Byron's wondrous poem. 

The dungeon of Bonnivard has a heavily vaulted roof 
and seven heavy Gothic-arched columns, as all will re- 
member who remember that rarely-descriptive opening of 
the second stanza : — 

" There are seven pillars of Gothic mold, 
In Chillon's dungeons deep and old; 
There are seven columns, massy and gray. 
Dim with a dull imprisoned ray, 
A sunbeam which hath lost its way, 
And through the crevice and the cleft 
Of the thick wall is fallen and left ; 
Creeping o'er the Hoor so damp, 
Like a marsh's meteor lamp ; 
And in each pillar there is a ring, 
And in each ring there is a chain ; " 

The side of the dungeon farthest from the windows and 
fhe lake seems to have been built against the solid rock, or 
else the wall has crumbled away and lies in heaps on that 
side. The window-slits are very narrow, and so high that 
when the Governor (prompted by Anna Maria) determined 
to steal all the blue-bells growing in them, it was no in- 



332 PA BIS IN '&1. 

considerable lengtli of ladder that carried the suborned guide 
up to the theft. They must have been difficult to reach, 
by the best contrivance of the prisoner ; and even in the 
brightest days they can have given only the dimmest of 
lio-ht to the great room. But oh, what a torment of Tanta- 
lus must he have endured, when he did reach those nar- 
row slits, and look out on the world from which he was 
debarred ! For the lake with its gliding sails and flashing 
tiny waves lies in full view below, and beyond rise the 
mountains of Savoy, backed by that great snow-range 
which brings a thrill even in memory ; and what must be 
the pang, not only to look upon one bit of a debarred world, 
but that bit dropped out of the very scenic heaven ! 

It is the third of these columns from the entrance door, 
whereon the name of " Byron," deeply cut, can still be 
discerned, spite of the many hundreds of visitors who have 
tried to take part in the fame of Ghillonby likewise using 
penknife on the friable stone; and it is the fifth to which 
the guide points as that on which the massive ring once 
held the shackles of Bonnivard. It may be so ; it probably 
is so ; I had schooled myself into the firm belief that it 
was so, long before I had disposed of my raped flowers and 
the bit of stone gouged from the old walls, bought a few 
pictures and a Helvetian ten-sous piece or so, as memen- 
tos of a most memorable visit, and emerged again to 
daylight and the outer air, to find a train of black cars 
dashing along the railway back of the Castle and within 
twenty feet of it, and to muse anew on the rapidity with 
which the New is encroaching upon, transforming, and 
eventually sweeping away the Old. 



XXVII. 

BIRD-FLIGHT m SWITZERLAIS-D— II.— THROUGH THE 

OBERLAND. 

The Captain wished to stay in Geneva for a twelve- 
month, but the thing was impracticable. Then he peti- 
tioned for a month ; but he was over-ruled, five to one. 
Not even Geneva and its lake could compensate for the 
loss of all the rest of the world — scarcely for missing the 
Bernese Oberland, which was to be our substitute for 
Chamouni and the Tete Noire, left over for another season. 
The vote might possibly have been different, had not 
Young Hawesby exhausted his available French in a fierce 
encounter with a Genevese cab-driver, whom he finally paid 
beyond demand, — and been anxious to get toward Ger- 
many, where he could fall back upon his reserve of the 
Teutonic dialect. At all events, one morning we bade a 
regretful farewell to the picturesque old town and its 
Calvinian memories — to Rousseau's Garden, to the floating 
donkeys'-ears, to the almost uninterrupted views of the 
great snow-range — and rolled away in the half- American 
Swiss railway carriages for the Oberland via Berne. 

What long last glimpses of Mont Blanc we took that 
morning, especially when, at Morges, through a wonderfully 
deep gorge in the " ramparts " on the southern side of the 
lake (something like the Clove at the Cattskills), we caught 
the whole white side of the range, apparently almost to 
the water's level, and for the first time saw something else 
than the awful peaks! And when the great mountain 



334 PARIS IN '6T. 

faded through inexorable distance, the charm of scenery 
by no means faded with it ; for there were plenty of 
poterish gorges, and bridge-depths, and picturesque low- 
lying valleys, where towns and hamlets nestled as cozily 
as so many sheep in a huge pasture ; and Romont, a very 
old town climbing up a side-hill, showed us a wilderness 
of round and square towers, Lombardy-poplars and antique 
houses of the no-horned character ; and then the rocky- 
banked Same came directly, with such frightful gorges 
that we almost forgot the valley of the Rhone; and 
Fribourg presently glared at us with wrathful eyes from 
the many-pointed Cathedral, because we could not possibly 
stop to hear the big organ, — and so impressed us with the 
round towers and coped wall of its old fortifications, 
through the means of which it stood astride over a gorge 
which would otherwise have been too much for it, that we 
felt rather relieved than otherwise when beyond its ken. 
Then came the Swiss chalets, much talked of, long waited 
for — those handsome, odd, laboriously-built, extending- 
roofed, side-galleried, shingle-inclosed erections of wood, 
on the building of the more perfect of which, one man 
would seem to have exhausted a life-time for each and 
died just before nailing on the roof, so that the survivors 
had been obliged to put on the top half the rocks in the 
canton, to prevent the whole affair blowing away. A 
first glimpse, this, of a feature that was to become so 
familiar during the few following days, as to give the 
sense of rustic beauty in building a new direction, and 
almost to make us fancy that we had lived among them 
all our lives. 

Berne, at last — Berne of the bears. Another fine old 
town, with the sides of nearly all its streets handsome 
columned arcades of stone, affording shopping facilities and 
promenades unequaled by any other city in recollection, — 
and with quite all its shops and shop- windows full of wood- 



TEROUGH THE OBEELAND, 335 

carvings, tbe bear largely predominating. I do not know 
the human population of Berne, but I think that I am safe 
in saying that the bears, principally wooden, would count 
up ten millions. Everybody sells bears, at Berne ; every- 
body buys bears and sends them all over the world. Ask 
me not why — I do not know ; there is a legend which some- 
how connects the town and the ursine breed, and that is 
quite enough to induce the mounting of bears on all the 
fountains, all the public buildings, all the churches, and 
even to warrant the keeping of a round bear-pit (Fosse de 
I'Ours) at the lower end of the Grande Rue, near the hand- 
some public promenade and over the precipitous-sided and 
rapid Aar, — in one semicircle of which two or three 
enormous live bruins lounge lazily and occasionally eat up 
a drunken Englishman when he tumbles into their abode ; 
while in the other semicircle half a dozen young ones, 
with their wild-oats not yet sown, munch contributed fruit, 
climb trees, wrestle, and generally disport themselves for 
the behoof of visitors. 

Very picturesque is Berne at that portion, with the well- 
shaded public grounds rising beyond the Aar, the old 
town literally hanging over the river on the hither side, 
and the stream spanned by two stone bridges of perilous 
height, and one of timber-work a little above (the railway- 
bridge) so high that its chords really seem to be those of 
cobwebs, and I dare not even mention the number of feet 
of altitude credited to it. (I think that I have heard it 
called from two to three hundred feet in height ; and cer- 
tain it is that in riding over it the look downward might 
as well be a thousand.) 

But Berne has something more attractive than even the 
public grounds and bridges over the Aar. At the head of 
the Grande Rue, and near the Federal (National) Build- 
ings, which a due memory of the City of Washington 
would keep almost any American from entering, — stands 
16 



336 PARIS IN '67. 

the old Town Hall, a fine specimen of the thirteenth cen- 
tury, now restored in exquisite taste ; and immediately be- 
side it the Cathedral, built in the fourteenth, lifts one grand 
square tower and many pinnacles, while its arched front 
entrance has an elaboration only second to that of Stras- 
bourg ; and immediately in front of it, in enduring bronze, 
splendidly rides Rudolph Von Erlach, who won Laupen 
in 1339, four bears (of course) him gardant at the corners. 
A few steps, and the Terrasse de Cathedrale is reached — a 
handsome shaded public ground overhanging the Aar at 
a dizzy height, with several monuments, conspicuous 
among them one in bronze to Berthold V., Due de Zaerin- 
gen, "Conductor of the Bears of Berne," — one of the 
noblest and most modest designations of the leader of 
a warlike people, possible to conceive. But what is all 
this, and the story of the knight who once leapt the para- 
pet of this terrace and landed unharmed, horse and rider, 
in the Aar beneath, — to the view of the mountains of the 
Bernese Oberland — the queenly white Jungfrau, and her 
companions the Monk and the Eiger, first caught from this 
point? Ah, that first view of the Bernese mountains! — ah, 
that admiration approaching to worship — and that bound- 
ing of the pulses at the thought of approaching them more 
nearly ! There may have been less madness in this first 
glimpse than in that which opened Mont Blanc to memory, 
but the eye was certainly better filled and the sense of 
beauty better satisfied. 

Fine old Berne Cathedral ! — through which no longer 
thunder the masses of Rome, but the stately chants of the 
Lutherans ! — there is a tender recollection about that pile, 
henceforth, that can no more be forgotten than here 
ignored. I do not know, and shall probably never know, 
what German master of the organ it was, who on the night 
when we reached Berne chose to spend his evening send- 
ing the tones of the powerful instrument through those 



THROUGH THE OBEBLAXD. 337 

grand old arches, while we sat wrapt in the darkness of 
the aisles below, and alternately felt the hot tears brimming 
up as he wailed a dirge for some lost soul, or dreamed 
that the heavens were opening ?^s he led us up with the 
last silver tinkle of a hymn of praise that seemed dying 
away in the very empyrean, or shrunk within ourselves 
when the great bursts of sound " echoed roof and trembled 
rafter" with thunders that might have heralded the Day 
of Doom! I thought that I had before heard the organ: 
it was a mistake — all before had only been preludes ; the 
playing came when the German master touched the keys, 
with the arches of old Berne Cathedral to supply the whis- 
pering or thunderous echo ! And yet there is reason to fear 
that Lady Eleanor and Young Hawesby, just then in the 
unreasonable stage, heard not a. note, and calmly made 
love through it all ! 

" At Interlaken, heart of the Bernese Oberland " — such 
were the first words of this rambling record, penned then 
and there ; and at this point something like a wide circle 
seems to have been rounded. At Interlaken the pen 
made record of what had occurred in very different scenes : 
it is only just that among widely different scenes it should 
make record of Interlaken, one of the very dearest of all 
memories of travel. 

No matter how we came, by rail, and then down the 
Aar and over the little Lake of Thun, from Berne to Inter- 
laken ; how one by one, very soon after leaving Berne, 
names that had been sacred to the tourists' thoughts began 
to be called out as the grand summits came to the eye — 
the Jungfrau, a blunt white cone of matchless proportions ; 
the Monk and Eiger, lower, similar-shaped, alike spot- 
lessly white, and seeming the Virgin ^Mountain's inseparable 
companions ; the Aarhorn, the Finsteraarhorn, the Matter- 
horn, Mount Cervin, all sharp, jagged, and forbidding, but 
all seeming to loom immediately above us, so clearly they 



338 PARIS IN '67. 

thrust up their defiant heads into the shadowless amber 
air. Nor how the brown ranges, lying nearer, presented 
a rare finished beauty in the late-lying snow that made 
white perpendicular strips along every gully and ravine, 
from half-way upward to the top ; while at every turn a 
new cascade broke upon the view, sparkling down the 
mountain sides wherever a slight depression could give 
course to the product of the snow already melted. A 
sweet little sail was that, altogether, on the Stadt Berne, 
which carried us from the landing of Scherlingen-Thun, at 
the mouth (for the time) of the Aar, over the Lake of 
Thun to within half an hour's ride by the omnibuses of the 
General Post from Nevvhaus to Interlaken ; and it seemed to 
culminate when the Shreckhorn rose jagged and irregular 
three-pointed, far ahead, and reputedly five hundred feet 
higher than the Jungfrau, filling the bound of vision with 
the very suggestion of its name — a storm-shriek, wild and 
fierce beyond all comparison. 

And yet I think that not all of us looked upon the peaks 
with clear eyes, or listened with the due unadulterated 
mirth to the " Yesh, shentleman," "Much bootiful morning," 
and " Indeedly very well," of stupid old John Hery, the 
guide who had been forced on us at Berne, to neglect us 
throughout and leave us at Interlaken, surcharged with 
rage at a balked swindle and brandy of the rawest charac- 
ter. And the reason of the dimmed eyes w^as this — that 
to more than one of us the harp and violin playing oti the 
deck of the little Stadt Berne, told too pleasant a story of 
the same music on the decks of Hudson day-steamers 
going Cattskill or Saratoga- ward, and brought far-distant 
loves, with all the sadness of separation, nearer than 
Shreckhorn or Finsteraarhorn could come by the strong- 
est exercise of mountain prerogative. 

But we were at Interlaken at last — Interlaken, "between 
the lakes," as its name indicates even to an English ear. 



THROUGH THE OBERLAN'D. 339 

Dear old Interlaken ! — which I long ago called the " most 
glorious goal of a pilgrimage gemmed with notable 
sights and pleasant recollections" — why cannot I have 
space to make the "bird-flight" in your neighborhood 
something more than a mere rush of wings ! Why cannot 
I tell of the old town, with its hangiug-roofed and carved- 
gabled chalets, huddled cozily along the winding, bridged, 
and rapid Aar — with many quiet little shops and baths, 
and not a few hotels ; and of still older-looking suburban 
Unterseen, oa the other side of the bridge, dominated by 
the great rocks that seem ready at any moment to fall and 
blot it from the map, but with some of the most glorious 
views of the Jungfrau and the Monk to be caught in all the 
Oberland ; and of the handsome wide streets, with delicious 
shade and lovely walks, stretching through the more 
modern part of the town, and affording frontage for a range 
of the most excellent palatial hotels attainable even in 
Switzerland, — and for a wilderness of shops of the utmost 
elegance, where every variety of wood-carving, in every 
size, material, and costliness, arrests the foot, and charms 
the eye, and tempts the pocket — deer and dogs and 
hunters, and bears, and birds, and little chalets, and 
marvelously delicate bijouterie-boxes and book-stands 
and paper-folders and cuckoo-clocks— all that exquisite 
variety, many times repeated, which tempts the eyes and 
pockets of art-lovers at favorite galleries on Broadway, 
and showing where many of those gems are every season 
picked up with such infinite travel and trouble ; and of 
the Hotel Victoria, a five-storied palace with a noble front, 
handsome court-yard, outlying hamlets, and the clearest 
possible view of the Jungfrau, of which (the hotel, not the 
Jungfrau) Ruchty is proprietor and need not be ashamed 
of the distinction ! Why cannot I have space to speak at 
length of all these things ? — and why (saddest thought of 
all !) why cannot I be allowed to scribble a volume, and 



340 PARIS IN '67. 

detain the reader for at least a week in thought, over the 
white glories of the Jungfrau ? 

The Jnagfrau — ah, that is what we specially visit In- 
terlaken to vfoi'ship, even at a distance. It lies in full view, 
some fifteen miles distant from the portion of the town 
where the Hotels Victoria, Jungfrau, &c., have their loca- 
tion — in full view, all the upper portions, through a gorge 
between the nearer and lower mountains, which seems to 
have been arranged with special references to visitors and 
Interlaken. I would no more attempt to describe it, even 
if I could, than to limn the Queen of Heaven if I should 
suddenly catch sight of her ; and the temptation is put 
farther away by the fact that such a description would 
be simply impossible. I only know, after studying the 
Virgin Queen by day and by night, in early morning sun- 
shine and at high noon and at falling eve and through the 
silver moonlight — that at all that distance away, yet seem- 
ingly almost within stone' s-throw, rises skyward the truest 
rounded cone that ever blessed human eyes; the apex 
clear, sharp, and well defined ; the covering snow so spot- 
less that at any time it may have fallen but yesterday, and 
BO plain to view that the very sparkle of the crystals is 
often visible ; the Silver Horn, snowier than the snowiest, 
edging the right slope, just below the peak, with a ridge 
of pure white glory for which there is no word in any lan- 
guage ; the Snow Horn, a little farther to the left, only less 
clear and beautiful; and, sloping down into the bosom of 
the great mountain, broad white glaciers, with here and 
there a ravine of dusky shadow that would even yet be 
white as relieved against any mountain less spotless than 
this Crowned Virgin of the Oberland. Far more shapely 
and far handsomer than Mont Blanc, scarcely less awful 
in the upheaval of a mighty bulk of snow above the clouds 
and against the upper sky — the Jungfrau fills the soul, tasks 
description, and awakens regret at the very thought of 



THROUGH THE OBEELAXD. 34-1 

absence, to a degree that I had never before believed pos- 
sible with any work of God's hand except the great wide 
sea, which seems to be our mother ! 

There are the most charming of excursions from Inter- 
laken, to be readily accomplished from any single spot on 
the continent ; and the best of them fell to the lot of the 
Governor and his " birds " (vrho doubts the fact ?) in their 
few days in the heart of the Oberland. For did we not 
ascend Hohbul, lying half-way between the town and the 
Brienz landing, and thence catch views of all the Oberland 
range, of Interlaken and IJnterseen below, the lake ot'Thun 
northward, and that of Brienz, a very trough between 
great peaks, at its edge, stretching away southward?^ 
besides tempting the cross-boddiced peasant-girls to sing 
the '•'' Ranz des Vaohes^^ in the very echo of their native 
hills, that ever seemed to be calling home the cows at 
evening — and discovering (eh, Young Haw^esby !) that 
Swiss peasant-girls do not sell their kisses at a franc each, 
even when youth offers the temptation ? 

And did we not ride up the glorious valley of Grindel- 
wald — largest and finest of the valleys of Switzerland — 
the richest and greenest of crops covering every foot of 
the vale below, and green pastures stretching up the 
" alps " till they broke, wave-like, against the awful crags 
of the mountains hemming them in on every side ; while 
the little picturesque chalets climbed the slopes as if they 
had been human, and the chamois bounded, and even the 
cattle browsed on precipices that made the eye dizzy in 
looking up, and suggested what must have been the effect 
in looking dow?i ! Did we not see the cascades tumbling 
wilder and wilder down the mountain sides, and ride beside 
a white river of rapids with the force and roar of those of 
Niagara — all from the melted snow of the peaks above; 
and see the bright flowers blooming by the wayside, heed- 
less of the snow and ice, that seemed near enough to chill 



342 PARIS IN '67 

their petals and close their bright eyes ? Did we not find 
ourselves surrounded with children and old people, many 
of them " goitred " and miserable-looking, and all importu- 
nate to sell their cherries and little wood-carvings ; and 
come at last to the " Hotel et Pension du Glacier," with 
the Glacier Inferieur de Grindelwald lying in full view 
ahead across the meadows, coming down, like a frozen 
river as it was, between the Middenthal on the left and 
the Eiger on the right, while the Glacier Superieur held 
place farther to the left, between the Wetterhorn and the 
Middenthal ; and then and there did we not provide our- 
selves with the piney "alpenstock^," iron-pointed, for the 
coming ascent, besides kilting petticoats and rolling 
trousers (individually and according to garments — not in- 
discriminately), and take our way beside hay-field and 
through damp wood and over damper meadow, to that 
debris of broken stone, half-dried ravines and encroaching 
ice, the foot of the Glacier of Grindelwald ? Did we not 
look up with awe at the splintered, jagged masses of ice, 
said to be five hundred feet in thickness, and certainly 
extending upward for miles, striking a chill to the very 
marrow as we approached the foot, — and then dare an- 
other and a worse chill by passing into the torch-lighted 
ice-caves, an hundred or two of feet of winding passages, 
with the crystal sides and roof dripping and the lights 
flaring upon a greater wealth of diamonds and crystals, in 
those wonderful transparent walls, than was ever dreamed 
of by the painters who devised scenery for the "Ice 
Witch" and the "Kaiad Queen?" And then did not 
Young Hawesby and the Governor " do their glacier " by 
climbing it, alpenstock in hand, guide hanging back, with 
more slippery footing than they like to think of in calmer 
moments, and grave doubts whether they would come to 
their end by merely rolling down into one of the boiling 
caldrons hundreds of feet beneath, or meet a difierent 



THROUGH THE OBERLAND. 3J:3 

death by being simply crashed under the ice-boulders 
constantly precipitating themselves downward, amid roar 
and crash, in the shape of young avalanches ? And does 
not a very little glacier go a great way with both Young 
Hawesby and the Governor, neither of whom intends to 
do the glaciers of Mont Blanc at any early period, pres- 
ent cost of shoes and trousers duly considered ? 

Half the objects of tourist attraction are overrated ; the 
other half are correspondingly underrated, to keep the bal- 
ance. All the world hears, continually, of the Fall of the 
Staubbach, at Lauterbrunnen ; and scarcely one in ten hears 
of the Fall of Giessbach, on Brienz. The Fall of Lauterbrun- 
nen, reached by branching off from the Valley of Grindel- 
wald into the narrower and wider one of Lauterbrunnen, 
at Zweilichenen, is fearfully overrated, it being simply a 
single clear leap of a very thin stream down the sheer cliff 
of the Batten Alp, about nine hundred feet, to the level of 
the valley below ; though there is really an awful sublimity 
about the black frown of the Batten and the Rothhorn 
opposite, squeezing the valley to a thread, and almost the 
wildest pass in memory — atoning for any thing that may 
be deficient in the fall. But what is this to my beauty — 
no, our beauty, Gipsy Queen and Anna Maria, to the daring 
foot of the first of whom I owe the ascent to the top — 
what is all Lauterbach, I say, to the Fall of Giessbach, 
reached by steamer from Interlakeu, and half way down 
the charming mountain-hemmed Lake of Brienz, while the 
climb from the water-level is fully compensated by even 
the single view over the lake from the handsome plateau 
in front of the hotel ? Giessbach is by far the loveliest 
waterfall that I have ever seen — a thousand feet of descent 
of a noble stream, through a cleft in the mountain-side, 
down, over rocks and through embowering trees, one mass 
of swirling white foam from top to bottom, and the thun- 
der of its course fully matched by the shuddering sensation 
15* 



344 ' PARIS IN- '^1. 

of' its visible power. Take one-quarter of the American 
Fall at Niagara, with its features of feathery foam and 
arrowy speed, and send it down over rocks, though almost 
perpendicularly, six or seven times the distance, and all the 
while glancing through and among the wildest and glos- 
siest of dark shades — and something like this sweeter, 
wilder, more powerful rival of Trenton Falls will be con- 
veyed to the imagination. Even mere passers up the lake 
have a glimpse of its foot — a hundred feet of white foamy 
water hurrying and dashing down to the lake-level — -just as 
they make their stop at little Giessbach landing, where the 
old nondescript caricature of Tell and Winkelried sells crys- 
tals and lammergeyer-quills, where lie clumsy old cano- 
pied boats that might have borne even the grandfathers of 
tbose heroes, and where the peasant-girls of the hamlet 
have a pleasant habit of assembling on Sunday afternoons, 
plenty of starched linen under and around their crossed- 
boddices of black velvet, to sing the echo-hymns of the 
mountain-land, carry away captive hearts by their oddity 
and simplicity that they would never insnare with their 
beauty — and pocket a few convenient francs against Monday. 
Down the Lake of Brienz — a glorious sail, through the 
very gems of Oberland scenery — to Brienz; and then into 
ommibuses, long, lumbering, four-or-six-horsed ; and so 
with a gradual ascent over the Brunig Pass by the Hotel 
de Brunigkulm at the top, and down on the other side, 
with a much more rapid suddenness, to the Lucerne side 
of the range. Glorious views, throughout — sweet little 
Alpine lakes, bluer than the most exaggerative artist has 
ever painted them, and gentle (in repose) as the azure eye 
of the woman loved best ; a halt at the Hotel du Lion 
d'Or, at Lungen, with the worst of the villainous Swiss 
wines and the Tower of Babel in languages — a glance 
backward, with a regretful last view of the snow range, 
the Jungfrau, the Monk, and the Eiger; — and then down 



THROUGH THE OBERLAND. 3^5 



lower and more rapidly to the little landing of Alpnacli, 
on the Lake of Lucerne ("Lake of the Four Cantons"), 
alleged scene of Tell's exploits, and the rival of Geneva 
in the sharp peaks forming a setting for its own quiet 
beauty. Where, too, a terrible catastrophe occurred, de- 
manding a paragraph of its own. 

There were a considerable number of persons waiting 
on and about the wharf for the Stadt Luzern, iron paddle- 
wheeler, then steaming up from Lucerne. During the 
wait the Gipsy Queen disappeared, alone, while Young 
Hawesby and Lady Eleanor disappeared without being 
alone. A few moments, and then re-enter the Gipsy 
Queen, running in, out of breath and hair disheveled. 
"What is the matter?" simultaneous inquiry, in ail the 
languages of Europe. "Oh! oh! oh!" — no explanation 
further. The anxious inquiry repeated. " Oh, I have 
heard of Swiss avalanches, but I never thought that I 
should live to see one fall and destroy life in that man- 
ner !" " An avalanche ? fallen ? and somebody dead ? 
Where ?" again in all the languages. " Oh, round the 
corner, here — come and see !''^ All remembered that they 
were in Switzerland, a name associated with avalanches ; 
all followed. Slowly and solemnly the Gipsy Queen led 
the way round a corner of the rocks and displayed to 
the gaze of her astounded victims — her own face rigid 
earnest the while — a stone of perhaps a pound weight, 
and the hole from which it had just dislodged itself in the 
bank, while beneath the fearful "avalanche" a black 
beetle lay crushed and lifeless ! Sensation ! 

* * :5-- * * * 

The foregoing line of stars is significant. There are some 
things about which the nearest possible approach to silence 
is the nearest approach to common sense. The Governor 
and his party went on to Lucerne, and thence rode to 
Kussnacht (an old town of no particular mark, a few 



346 PARIS IN '67. 

miles eastward, where Tell is said to have lived, and 
where he is alleged to have shot the apple from the head 
of his son, and where he probably did so if he really lived, 
and if he had a son and an apple and a bow, and if there 
was a Gesler, and if Gesler had a hat, et cetera.) It was 
very hot, riding down to Kussnacht in an open carriage ; 
and not even the views of the Rhigi hanging bare and 
sharp over the edge of the lake, and the sharp needles of 
Mount Pilate rising on the other side, could quite console 
us under the infliction. It grew hotter, but we engaged a 
guide and a porter, and went up the Rhigi on foot, like 
so many donkeys as we were ! The Rhigi is not an easy 
thing to climb. It supplied us, during the afternoon, 
with magnificent views over nearly all the lakes and cities 
of Switzerland, from Thun to Zurich, and from Berne 
to Altdorf ; and it supplied us with head-aches and the 
various degrees of coup de soleil^ extending farther than 
either. "We reached the top, more dead than alive, at 
dusk ; had more and more magnificent views, such as dead 
people probably take from their cofiSns. We found no 
place to sleep, or even to lie on the floor, at the Kulm 
(on the extreme top) or the Staefiel (near the top). We 
climbed and stumbled down to the Rhigi-Klosterli, behind 
the mountain, and passed the night. There were lively 
times that night, all around — lively times at the Kulm, 
in a storm which beat in the windows, nearly swept away 
the house, and set the women screaming through the 
halls with the somewhat infelicitous cry that the Day 
(they should have said the night) of Judgment had come. 
I wish — not that the day had arrived, but that the house 
had been swept away, roof to foundation ; likewise the 
Staeffel ; also the whole top of the mountain. There were 
lively times, too, down at the Klosterli, where the half- 
dead Governor raved (they said) even worse than usual. 
Morning, and we caught a few more views — especially 



TEROU OH TEE OBERLAND. 347 

views of the lake, and of the Lake of the Canton Uri 
stretching away yet southward — glorious in the blue-black 
of the waters, the effects of the rising mists, the rugged 
sublimity of Pilate and the white peaks of the far-away 
Oberland. Then we stumbled down to Weggis, on the 
west, and sailed back to Lucerne ; pausing on our way 
down to think how prettily-situated lay Kaltbad, half-way 
from the summit, and how very beautiful it might be to 
people less foot-sore, weary, and ill-tempered. 

The Rhigi is a humbug, a delusion, and a snare. Not one 
of us but remembers it with horror, in spite of the views of 
all Switzerland, which it certainly gives in matchless per- 
fection. If I ever ascend it again, it will be with an 
invading force and a park of battering-artillery, especially 
to blow into infinitesimal smithereens the brutes who 
reside upon it, the huts where they find shelter and afford 
none, and even the peaks with which they tempt unwary 
travelers to destruction ! 

Quite enough of the Rhigi, as we all had too much of it. 
The " bird-flight in Switzerland " was nearly over. Jean 
Reber, of the Englischer Hof at Lucerne, did what could 
be done to restore our lost vitality ; then we were photo- 
graphed — a " lovely crowd," as all observers can testify. 
A few hours, and we were at Bale, on the Rhine ; domi- 
ciled at another house worth mention — the Trois Rois, 
with the effigies of those notable " Three Kings of Co- 
logne " over the front door, and the balconies of the rear 
hanging over the rapid, rushing Rhine — our first glimpse 
of that river. 

Not much of interest at Bale (called alternately "Bale," 
"Basle," "Basel"), at least to a flying traveler. Its 
most remarkable feature is to be found in its "tide-ferries," 
in which the boats, diagonally swung to a wire rope 
stretched from side to side, sweep across with tremendous 



348 PARIS IJ^ '67. 

speed, the current being entirely tlie motive power. 
!N^ext, the old, narrow, and precipitous streets, and houses 
antique and uncomfortable. Xext, the Cathedral, com- 
paratively diminutive-looking, and so old as to have been 
restored in 1637, with outside sculptures of such oddity 
and atrocity that they might found a new school of the 
abominable in art. N^ext, the Church of St. Peter, 
modern, many-pinnacled, and elegant. Finally (and by no 
means the matter of least consequence), a bridge, with 
stone coping all the way across, and half the piers also 
of substantial stone, but the other half timber trestle- 
work ! I am inclined to think that we all left Bale, and 
finished our brief tour in Switzerland, less satisfied than 
we should otherwise have done — because no one could be 
found to answer our pourquoi with reference to the two 
sides of that bridge ; and I doubt whether all of us will not 
drift back there, some time or other, with no more pressing 
errand than to solve the painful mystery ! 



xxYin. 

STRASBOUEG PATES AND BADEN-BADEN PIN-HOLES. 

We came to Strasl>ourg (from Bale) uneventfully 
enough, though we may be said to have received a wel- 
come (not warm but cold) in the " All hail !" proclaimed 
by all the crops in the Lower Rhine province being beaten 
down by that description of celestial pellet. We had but 
one sensation during the latter portion of the railway ride 
along the Lower Rhine, and a few miles westward from it ; 
and that consisted in seeing what seemed to be an ordinary 
church-spire, with high-hipped roof below, standing out in 
the woods, with the oddity of its dodging about hither and 
thither, first on one side of the route and then the other, 
never seeming to be passed, and never to come appreciably 
nearer! It was only after indulging in that amusement 
during a run of thirty or forty miles, and reaching Stras- 
bourg at the end of it, that we discovered the anomaly to 
be Strasbourg Cathedral itself, the spire nearly twice the 
height of New York Trinity, and the abutting front of the 
main building somewhat higher than the top of the highest 
other spire in the town, so that both had been seen at such 
a distance as completely hid all surroundings behind the 
intervening forests ! 

Strasbourg, lying on the German frontier, and conse- 
quently that one of the large French cities supplying the 
guard or outpost against possible German encroachments, 



350 PARIS IN '67. 

is splendidly fortified by walls and circumvallations, and 
so powerfully garrisoned that one seems to find a caserne 
nearly everywhere, to come upon a squad of defiling troops 
at nearly every corner, to hear the tap of the drum and the 
tramp of marching feet at almost any hour of the day or 
night. Then it has marked beauty in architecture as well 
as notability in age ; and something of splendor in caf6 
construction and adornment, something almost metropoli- 
tan in the arrangement of its handsome shaded Champs 
Elysees, lying five minutes' walk southward from the old 
city-center at the Cathedral, seems to warrant the phrase 
often applied to it, and to mark it as indeed the "Paris 
of eastern France." It has evidently, too, important 
specialties of manufacture, in both lighter and heavier 
lines, from silks and linens to watches, bijouterie, and 
steam-engines ; but we have literally nothing to do with 
these — we have but to deal with a few special features 
which fall most naturally under the notice of the hasty 
traveler and make the Strasbourg visit one worthy of 
long recollection. 

Everybody, I think, has heard of " the wonderful clock 
of Strasbourg" — not quite everybody has taken any mental 
cognizance of the wonderful Cathedral which contains it ; 
so easy is humanity to be impressed with the comparatively 
petty, if it is only curious and amusing — so difficult to 
touch when the higher qualities of estimation are needed 
to that end. The clock is really a wonder in its compara- 
tively useless way, with its astronomical dials and accura- 
cies (by no means ordinarily considered as marking its 
value) — its imposing size at the end of one of the great 
naves and near one of the principal entrances — its odd 
blending of design in central and two supporting 
towers — its winding once in nine hundred and ninety-nine 
years (the same person not often winding it twice, they 
say) — its gilded colossal cock, that flaps its wings and 



STRASBOURG AND BADE IT. 351 

crows three times (a little hoarsely) on the top of the left 
pinnacle, every day at noon — its figure of Time striking 
the great bell every half-hour — and its yet more difficult 
automatic arrangement of the twelve apostles coming out 
from their hiding-places and making their circuit around the 
Saviour, also every day at noon. In its original shape and 
as restored, it seems to have a very high antiquity, and it 
is certainly very curious ; but it does not go much further 
in impressiveness, unless the persons impressed are chil- 
dren. There are a great many " children," however — 
several hundreds of difierent ages crowd in, every day at 
noon, to see the apostles make their promenade and hear 
the cock flap his wiugs and crow ; and the whole of our 
party, from the grave Captain to the precise Lady Eleanor, 
rushed away from the Hotel de la Yille de Paris, on our 
first day in the city, with such speed, to avoid losing the 
marvels, that the uniustructed would have formed a very 
high idea of the devotion which drew us thus hurriedly to 
the Cathedral. 

Marvelous as the clock may be to the mere mechanician, 
what is its efiect to that of the pile itself on the architect or 
the architecturally instructed ? This glorious old building, 
of which the front is formed of two towers and an equal 
body-space between — seeming to be literally three towers 
— that at the left rising to a spire so high that one is diz- 
zied in looking up at it, and so elaborate in the perforated 
work of its upper portion that it creates the impression of 
lace embroidery stiffened into position, while that at the 
right has a mere cap at roof-height — this glorious old 
building, of which the buttressed and pinnacled sides seem 
to extend backward till they form a very cluster or villa of 
elaborate erections, filling the whole public square and 
actually fatiguing the eye with the delicate details of sculp- 
tured figures, tracery, and ornamentation, while the three 
front entrance arches, and the great side entrance at the 



352 PARIS IN '67. 

left, thoroughly bewilder with the thousand npon thousand 
of figures that stud them — 

— " Saints and angels carved in stone, 

By a former age commissioned as apostles to our own," 

(as so well sings Longfellow) — this glorious old Cathedral, 
which I consider by far the superior of N^otre Dame and 
Westminster, and more than the rival of St. Paul's in all 
except massive weight and space covered ; this (there is a 
prospect now of an end to the sentence) was commenced 
so long ago as the end of the tenth century, by one of the 
Hapsburgs, long before Rudolph, and unsuspicious of im- 
perial sovereignty, and only brought to any thing like a 
finished condition five hundred years afterward, in 1500. 
Of course it was more or less knocked to pieces in the 
ornamentations, by the Jacobin revolutionists of '89 ; 
but it has been well restored, and it stands to-day what 
the Captain (" architect, artist and man") well designates 
as " wonderful beyond comparison, in size, beauty of de- 
sign, and finish of workmanship ; unapproachably the no- 
blest of all the churches so far !" 

And within — is the effect less pleasing ? No ; the inte- 
rior is worthy of that outer magnificence. Very like Notre 
Dame in the character of its Gothic columns, arches, and 
the sky-reaching vaults into which they spring — there is 
something more like Westminster Abbey in the great clus 
ters of the shafts, seemingly bound together, like the Ro- 
man fasces, by the circling crevices of the great stones ; 
while the pierced upper galleries are again notably like 
Notre Dame. One seems, beneath that vaulted roof, and 
over that acre of pavement, to step with the freedom of 
sunshine and turf, with no thought of being confined with- 
in a mere building — till a pause is found at the splendid 
organ, hanging like a bird's nest of elaborate sculpture 
between two clusters of columns at the height of the 



STRASBOURG A YD BADEN. 353 

upper galleries — and the pulpit (believed to be the finest in 
Europe), in which frostwork and cobwebs appear to have 
been hardened into stone, so light, so airy, so gracefid be- 
yond description, is every detail of sexangular chaire and 
canopy. And, turning from these there are side-chapels of 
such beauty, and displaying such reckless cost in the altar- 
appointments of solid gold and silver, and the marvelous 
beauty of some of the paintings overhanging the shrines, 
that the almost shocking extravagance of the leading 
Parisian churches seems fully equaled, and one pauses 
again to consider how much of absolute worship there may 
be in lavishing wealth upon God's temples, and how much 
of nothing else than slavish heathen idolatry. 

But the Cathedral (or, as they call it locally, the "Miin- 
ster ") is not the only religious house in Strasbourg worthy 
of marked attention. The very old church of St. Thomas, 
the origin of which seems to go far beyond the Crusades, and 
then be lost in the mists of uncounted years, just as we 
lose a mountain in distance, — this, with its contents, forms 
really the second feature of the city. Architecturally, 
without, it is nothing, merely looking very old, low, 
gloomy, and massive. Within it is but a group of very 
heavy vaults and arches, actually seeming moldy and 
fungus-like, with the shutting out of the daylight for so 
many centuries. But here lies recessed one of the rnost 
interesting religious relics in France — the sculptured stone 
sarcophagus of Bishop Adeloque, with the identity and the 
date of 830, both rendered authentic by the Latin inscrip- 
tions yet decipherable, and the days of the Fathers and 
the Councils brought back at a bound. Here stands the 
elaborate tomb of Marshal Saxe, a noble slab obelisk, re- 
cording his victories and character, a full-length statue of 
the warrior fronting it at the base, bordered with emblems 
of conquered nations, and below a coffin, draped and suf- 
rounded with weeping figures ; the whole not unreasonably 



354 PARIS IN '%1. 

reckoned one of the "lions " of Strasbourg. And here, in a 
small, dingy old side -chapel, if possible moldier and more 
depressing in atmosphere than any thing else within the 
gloomy old walls, is shown the saddest spectacle of life 
fighting death, and the latter winning the victory, that can 
well be conceived — the embalmed bodies of Count Gusta- 
vus Adolphus of l^assau-Salberg, of the sixteenth century, 
and his o-irl-dauo-hter of fourteen. Both lie in substantial 
wooden coffins, with full-length glass lids ; and much of 
the raiment of the Count, and all that of his daughter, is 
the same in which they were first robed after embalmment. 
But oh, what a lesson is that intact but coppery-parch- 
ment face of the father, with the lips shrunken away, 
the teeth grinning, and the hard-dried resin lying under 
the shut lids, as it -oozed out so many ages ago — the form 
shriveled, the rich robes tarnished, and all pitiful in the 
effort to subvert the dictum, " dust thou art, and unto dust 
thou shalt return !" And how yet more pitiful is the sleep 
of the almost baby-princess, her face seeming like a crum- 
bling egg-shell, the little, thin withered atoms of hands 
crossed on the breast, the height of burial-luxury in silks, 
velvets, and costly Flanders laces, now all faded and dingy, 
dust on the fair hair, and yet a sparkle remaining in the 
diamonds that still clasp finger and hang in the withered 
ear ! " Bury my dead out of my sight !" may have been 
a sad order to give, on the part of the old patriarch who 
uttered it; but he did a better and wiser thing than he 
would have done had he ordered them embalmed with 
eastern spices, to be some day unrolled as scientific mum- 
mies, or made into a solemn ghastly show, like that of the 
Count of Nassau-Salberg and his poor little daughter. 

Strasbourg has yet two more features that must be 
briefly touched before rolling away Badenward — its old 
houses and its storks. Beautiful old houses, many of them 
with much the same features noticeable in the older Eng- 



STRASBOURG AND BADEN. 355 

lish cities, the same preponderance of upper stories over 
lower, the same timber-and-plaster, the same sharp-pitched 
roofs and many small square-paned windows. Most of 
the finest Strasbourg " antiques stand around and in the 
neighborhood of the Cathedral ; though the whole city 
may be said to be studded with them. There is one, bear- 
ing date of the fourteenth century, very near the *' Miin- 
ster," a corner-house of four stories beside the attic, with 
the whole corner chamfered away in building, giving it 
really three fronts, and the very handsomest thing of its 
class in memory. Ah, to remove that America-ward, and 
have it for a show and a relief to eyes too weary of the 
new ! And there are two immediately opposite the Cathe- 
dral, and only across the street from it, both gable-fronted, 
sharp-peaked, and of singular interest. The first and 
larger, of stone, stuccoed, is interesting from its seven 
stories, four of them above the level of the eaves, and its 
finish of barge-board into a flight of steps ; the second, 
also of stone and stuccoed, overtops it altogether, in the 
elaborate outside finish of its six stories, its having been 
built by one of the architects of the Cathedral, and its 
alleged age of 7iine hundred years ! 

This second, house — the "old house" par excellence of 
Strasbourg — increases instead of diminishing, in interest as 
one enters it ; for it has a spiral staircase of stone, extend- 
ing from ground-floor to roof, the curves the most perfect 
thing imaginable throughout, and the labor that must have 
been bestowed in cutting step and rail (as they come op- 
posite) , from the same block of stone, really enough to 
make the head ache in contemplating it. The Captain 
(architectural authority, again) pronounced it the finest bit 
of work that he had ever seen ; and I am not sure but he 
might have concluded to spend the balance of his life on 
those marvelous stairs, had there not been other curiosities 
to draw him away. Other curiosities there were in plenty 



356 PARIS 12^ '67. 

— all the old statuary torn and tumbled down from the 
Cathedral in ravage or renewal — some of it fine, but much 
of it odd or hideous ; and to crown all, the wilderness of 
machinery of the other and larger clock, said once to have 
held the place of the present, besides the original gilt 
wooden cock, about six feet in length, but now defunct 
and badly split open at the back, that the exhibiting 
woman had learned English enough to pat feelingly on the 
ruptured torso (if birds have torsos, which may be a ques- 
tion), and lament that "^e ho7i petit coq 'tnalheureux would 
nevare crow no more for les gentilhommes — nevare !" 

There only remains to say a word of the storks that 
seem to be the tutelary divinities of the place. From 
what historical incident or legend, I am quite in the dark ; 
but for some no doubt sufficient cause, the upper part of 
the town (that part in the air) has been quite given over 
to their possession ; and they are not only allowed but 
protected and welcomed in building their nests where, in 
other districts, they would be at least considered "in the 
way" — ^. e.^on the tojys of cell the chirnneys! How the 
smoke gets out, with such an obstruction as their long 
reedy nests to prevent, is the business of the owners of the 
chimneys, and not mine ; but it all seems odd as pictu- 
resque, especially as at no moment will one fail to see dozens 
of nests in any given direction, with huge birds standing 
and flapping wings on the tops, and scores and even hun- 
dreds slowly sailing hither and thither, their long necks 
outstretched, and their long legs depending as if they had 
been unjointed at the body and hung useless. They must 
be learned birds, too, I fancy; for there is a strong, massive 
bronze statue of Guttenberg, the (alleged) father of print- 
ing, standing not far from the Church of St. Thomas, with 
several bass-reliefs of world-famous groups decorating the 
base (among others, one embodying Washington, Franklin, 
Hancock, and most of the other leading worthies of the 



STRASBOURG AJ^D BADEN. 357 

American Revolution) ; and around that statue tlie storks 
seem to be always circling more numerously than elsewhere, 
as if they knew something pleasant of the old type-sticker, 
and had taken his effigy under their especial protection. 

But of the pates de foies gras [en Anglais., " pies of fat 
[goose] livers"), without the eating of which it is treason 
to visit Strasbourg — were they neglected entirely in the 
rush of sight-seeing through the notable old town ? Far 
be it from the Governor and liis party to be guilty of such 
an outrage on all the proprieties ! Ask the Gipsy Queen 
what merriment there was around the little table at the 
Yille de Paris, that night when we mixed the terrines de 
pates with certain bouteilles de Sillery to prevent danger to 
our digestion, — towards the close of which operation the 
Captain felt the necessity of making a patriotic speech 
while Lady Eleanor sang "Aileen Aroon ;" and Young 
Hawesby related the affecting story of his first love (the 
Gipsy Queen aforesaid whistling an accompaniment) ; and 
Anna Maria unaccountably mistook host Rufenacht for one 
of his own waiters, and sent him up stairs for a fresh 
pocket-handkerchief to dry the Governor's fast-flowing 
tears at the impossibility of gormandizing more than two- 
thirds of the last pate. 

Baden-Baden is at once the shortest and longest of rail- 
way rides from Strasbourg. The shortest in distance (not 
more than thirty or forty miles, at most), and the longest in 
the infinite variety of changes (I should like to use a stronger 
word than "infinite") from one train to another and oue 
side of a station to another, not to mention the vexatious 
custom-house examination of satchels and hand-bags at 
Kehl (leaving France and entering Germany), a few miles 
from Strasbourg, and at a crossing of the broad poplar and 
willow-banked Rhine, that would be highly picturesque 
under less perplexing circumstances. I have no recollec- 
tion precisely how many changes there are between Stras- 



358 PARIS IN '67 

bourg and Baden, nor how many hours they really consume ; 
but I know that an English fellow-passenger, who looked 
like a man of veracity, assured me that it was a habit with 
the more intelligent of his countrymen, after riding that 
road once, always to take a traveling-carriage over an 
hundred or two miles of the Black Forest, on return, or, 
failing that resource, to remain and die quietly at the point 
they had reached, rather than go through the same vex- 
ation a second time. I more than half suspected, by-the-by, 
after a few hours' sojourn at Baden, that the most of them, 
who happened to have been coming that way, " remained 
and died," as very few would have had money enough left, 
after the 'regulation visits to 'the Conversation-House, to 
hire a hand-cart, much less a traveling-carriage. 

Few places, of all the- world, are better known to read- 
ers than Baden-Baden, called by the double name to dis- 
tinguish it from another Baden (literally " Bath ") in Swit- 
zerland ; and yet it is doubtful whether one in twenty of 
mere readers who have never happened to visit it, under- 
stands its location or its relation to the great gambling 
saturnalia of the continent. Its celebrity, in name, has 
arisen from the many scenes in novels and dramas laid 
there on account of its gayety, its mixed society, and 
its age, as compared with the other play-centers ; the 
actual want of knowledge is derived from the habit of 
writers, of merely dragging in the name and describing 
some scene at a gaming-table or on promenade, which (given 
the tables and a little mixed society) might as well have 
occurred anywhere else in Europe. If I am just a trifle 
tedious, then, in indicating locations, while only hinting at 
what every one else describes, let the cause be found in the 
above not-too-intelligible paragraph. 

There are three great gambling-centers in the German 
States, besides other and minor ones there and every- 
where. Each is in a "Duchy" of the ten-mile-square 



STRASBOURG A^D BADEN. 359 

order, and exists by government establishment, paying 
round sums to the Ducal treasury. Each (they say) is to 
have its quietus in 1870, the new Prussian rule being 
averse to any gambling less extensive than that in which 
States supply the stakes. The first, and oldest in the 
ruinous detail, is this Baden-Baden, in the Grand Duchy 
of Baden, some twenty or thirty miles south of Carlsruhe, 
the capital, and half that distance eastward from the 
Rhine. The second is Weisbaden, capital of the Grand 
Duchy of Nassau, lying a few miles northward from the 
Rhine, a little beyond Mayence ; and the third is Hom- 
berg, capital of the Grand Duchy of Hesse-Homberg, 
lying far west from the Rhine at Mannheim, half-way to 
the French frontier. 

I am inclined to doubt whether there are many lovelier 
spots on the earth than this same Baden-Baden, consider- 
ing it naturally or artistically. It lies in a soft, sweet little 
valley, with a broad plain stretching westward toward the 
Rhine, a rapid little tributary of that river running 
through it and seeming to give it life and motion, while on 
three sides of it rise the rugged hills of the Black Forest, 
the intense darkness of their pines and firs seeming espe- 
cially intended to relieve the gem of quiet and yet varied 
beauty lying in their bosom. And certainly the hand of 
man has well seconded that of the Divine Architect, for 
the compa'-atively modern-looking town is built handsomely 
as well as substantially, of yellowish freestone, and the 
most exquisite taste seems to have presided over the pre- 
servation of shade, the planting of shrubberies, the keej)- 
ing clean of streets, and the arrangement of winding walks 
by the little river-side and around the rolling uplajids, 
making the fashionable center, near which stand the lead- 
ing hotels as well as the public buildings, little else than a 
dream of enchantment. 

It is in the midst of such beauties as are here faintly in- 
16 



360 PARIS I^ '67. 

dicated, on a sloping lawn stretcMng back from the river 
toward the first rise of the Black Forest hills, amid shades 
where all evergreens abound, but the dark-leaved linden 
principally predominates in summer, — that all those objects 
are located, about which interest clusters at Baden-Baden. 
The Conversation-House, the Drink-Hall, the Promenade- 
Grounds, the Theater. The latter is a large and very- 
handsome detached building, creating the impression of 
being at least a government hall, standing a hundred 
yards below the foot of the Promenade-Grounds, and at 
the left ascending. They say it is also very handsome 
within, and that excellent operatic performances are 
given there — the latter of which I am inclined to believe, 
and the former to doubt, from the fact of its being in 
Germany. And now to the Promenade-Grounds and its 
special buildings, to which even the theater is altogether 
secondary. 

These grounds may cover eight or ten acres, lying nearly 
square and sloping upward toward the west-north-west 
— the foot on one of the principal streets of the town, the 
head at the Conversation-House, the center an exquisite 
arrangement of lawn, trees, shrubbery and flowers, and 
the favorite walk graveled and seated entirely around it ; 
while along the foot of this walk, and on the left side 
in going up, stand rows of little shops in which some of 
the costliest goods in Europe are oflTered for sale to those 
whose purses have not yet been depleted — silks, velvets, 
fine laces, and soft German woolens ; jewelry of the 
rarest, beginning at diamonds and ending at coral (the lat- 
ter a specialty of Baden); silver, porcelains and Bohemian 
glassware of the most exquisite delicacy ; bijouterie, fancy 
articles, and indeed nearly every thing that can tempt eye 
and pocket. (Luxurious Anna Maria was so tempted, our 
first day, that half-way up she was obliged to employ a 
small boy to carry back her purchases to the Hotel 



STRASBOURG AND BADEN'. 361 

d'Angleterre, and farther on a full-grown porter, who 
beckoned for an assistant.) 

The Conversation-House, or "Kursaal," so celebrated 
in tale, drama, and personal ruin, stands across the head 
of the grounds — a very large plain-looking Grecian build- 
ing in three sections, the center of two stories, with 
a range of massive columns and a noble piazza (very like 
that at the Cattskill Mountain House) thrown forward 
beyond the lower extensions or wings. The central por- 
tion is the "Conversation " (gambling) "Hall;" the right 
wing (looking from the building) is the Library, and the 
left supplies the Restaurant, so necessary for those who 
cannot leave play long enough to go to dinner! There is 
' a very handsome Persian music-pavilion a little to the 
right and forward of the right front, where some of the 
best bands in Germany play during certain hours of 
the afternoon and evening, in the " full season ;" and 
it is across from this to the opposite side of the 
grounds, immediately in front of the building, that 
most of the promenading takes place, and such a mixture 
of society may be found, from princes to puzzle-venders, 
from fashionables to flower-girls, from countesses to 
cocottes., from bankers to " beaks," and chai-ming women 
to chevaliers cV industries as cannot well be matched else- 
where in Europe than at corresponding Weisbaden or 
Homberg. 

The Drink-Hall (German " Trinkhalle ;" English " Pump- 
Room ;" American, " Spring-House "), a long building 
much more chaste in order than the Conversation-House, 
and with the whole front one magnificent piazza of full 
height — stands at the edge of the Promenade-Grounds, 
without, some distance in front, and to the left of the 
more attractive erection. It has all nameable conveniences 
for drinking and bathing, within ; and the warm water of 
the celebrated springs (not half so offensive as most spa- 



362 PARIS IN '67. 

waters, in spite of the warmth) is ever flowing, free for all ; 
but by far the greatest curiosity connected with the Drink- 
Hall lies without, under that broad piazza. This is to be 
found in the range of noble frescoes, some eight or ten in 
number, each filling one of the panels of the covered front, 
each illustrating some passage in Badenese legend or the 
weird superstitions of the neighboring Black Forest, and all 
works of art deserving the highest admiration in their 
walk. I think that there is nothing at Baden-Baden bet- 
ter deserving remembrance than those pictures ; as there 
are certainly few legends more entertaining than those of 
the Lurleish knightly adventures which they commemo- 
rate. 

But all this while nothing has been said of the interior * 
of the Conversation-House — that, after all, for which 
people flock to Baden-Baden, the players to play, and the 
"lookers-on in Vienna " to make their notes, and sometimes 
to tumble unconsciously into the vortex and become the 
observed instead of the observers. In magnificent 
columned halls, then, with frescoes, gilding, and hangings 
of the richest that lavish wealth can purchase, long table 
after long table is set, from early morning till the closing 
hour of eleven at night ; each table covered with green 
cloth and the emblematic marks of the Demon of Chance, 
and bearing either the requisite machinery of roulette 
or that of rouge et noir — neither of which games have I 
the necessity or the intention of describing. And around 
those tables, by daylight and by gaslight, sit players in 
their chairs, and crowd other players and spectators close 
behind them — the most decorous silence observed and 
enforced, except now and then a word falling from the 
croupiers who rake in or distribute the won or lost gold 
and silver, with the undertone of rustling bank-bills, and 
the soft clinking of coins accidentally touching each other 
in thi'owing or removal. 



STRASBOURG AND BADEK. 363 

The players — what of them? — and what of the stakes? 
Of the latter a brief word, and that first. They are of 
every size and amount, from the silver five-franc, German 
crown or dollar, to the gold Napoleon, single or by hand- 
fuls, and so on up to the billet duhanque, which may repre- 
sent five hundred francs or ten thousand. Nothing (the 
five-francs once reached) seems too small for the tooth of 
the devouring monster; nothing, even when the thou- 
sands are counted by hundreds, seems too large for his 
ingulfing maw. And the players — who and what are 
they ? Ah, who and what are they not ? Men of all ages, 
of all nations, and apparently of all ranks and conditions — 
princes, peers, pickpockets — if I do not mistake me, some- 
times the very valets and waiters at the hotels, playing 
with the guests just served at dinner! They say that 
" misery makes us acquainted with strange bed-fellows ;" 
so does gambling. The page would not be half perfect if 
a pause was made here, nor would a tithe of the evil be 
indicated. For the men do not play alone, or even princi- 
pally — at least half the ventures at the Baden tables are 
made by women ! Women, like the men, of all ages, 
classes, and conditions ; all the elder and harder, as matter 
of course, and not a few of the young, the beautiful, and the 
innocent-looking ! The Russian Countess with whom the 
Gipsy Queen and Lady Eleanor made so pleasant an 
acquaintance at dinner — a hard-faced virago, now; the 
pretty girl met and so admired on promenade this after- 
noon ; the recognized lorette ; the chambermaid. 

Hour after hour such a circle surrounds each of the 
tables, those of the rouge et noir witnessing by far the 
heaviest playing, usually ; the more inveterate gamblers 
seated, pricking the chances with pin-points on cards also 
pinned to the cloth (whence the cant phrase "Baden-Baden 
pin-holes ") — heaps of gold lying before them, decreasing, 
increasing, vanishing ; the more casual players casting 



364: PARIS IN '67. 

down a few pieces, winning, losing, moving away to make 
room for others. Behind each circle a crowd of lookers-on, 
only less excited than the players in the vicissitudes of 
some one who meets with peculiar success or disaster ; and 
not a few of them in more danger than they dream, of 
some day (perhaps here and now) practicing what they at 
first regarded with wonder and horror. 

I am no Hogarth, nor yet a Salvator Rosa; and I think 
that I should need to be both to paint the faces and figures 
of a Baden-Baden gambling-table — the nervous, anxious 
brows ; the eager, bloodshot eyes ; the hard-set lips that 
tell of the clinched teeth within ; the clutching, quivering 
hands that tremble with excitement over winning, and 
half-dart after the flying coin of a sudden and terrible loss ; 
the demoniac joy that marks a run -of unusual luck ^ the 
agony and despair of the damned glaring from eye and 
blasting cheek, when the last hope has fled with the last 
unit of a squandered fortune. Few observers but carry 
away a face or two, to be long remembered ; and it will be 
long indeed — will it not, Anna IVIaria ? — before you and I 
forget one flint-faced harridan who sat opposite us at rouge 
et noii\ and played steadily and fiendishly, as Mephisto- 
philes might have done for a soul almost won — and one 
poor fellow, little more than a boy, who gasped and half- 
choked as his last I^apoleon went into the vortex, then 
turned away with a countenance on which all the fiends 
had been writing the despair of the lost, and staggered 
from the room with what we both believed to be the full 
purpose of immediate suicide ! 

Enough ! — enough, and too much ! Link arm in mine 
and drag me away, little woman of my own land, where at 
least this public temptation is not tolerated ! Away from 
the fascinating terror, before the swirl of the maelstrom be- 
comes irresistible, and I, too, plunge in and go downward! 
Away, with only a glance at the luxurious retiring-rooms 



STEASBOURa AND BADEN. 365 

in some of which sad figures seem to be waiting for those 
who never come away from the perilous board — and at the 
yet more private rooms where the groups are only of three, 
or four, or six, and the cards fall softly from jeweled hands, 
at ruinous " hazard." And then out into the cool night-air 
of the Promenade-Grounds, where the distant music will 
only remind us of the feet that in some of the dancing-hnlls 
will be flying till morning, — and of the night, now many 
years ago, when the first polka ever composed was danced 
in that very Kursaal, with two duels and three stark bodies 
its consequence before daylight ! 

Ah, morning and daylight ! — when the gamblers will be 
sleeping away debauch or despair, and when we, with 
neither to dread, will be looking back to the beautiful, 
fearful, evil attraction, from scenes so different though so 
near. For we shall be driving, then, over the miles of 
splendid road that lead away to the royally-standed and 
turfed race-circle of the Cours de Bade ; or wandering 
through the subterranean passages where yet the instru- 
ments of death and torture remain, from the days when 
the dreaded " Yehmgericht " ruled prince and peasant 
alike with a sword of dark and cruel justice; or gazing 
over Baden-Baden, the dusky hill-country, and the distant 
Rhine, from the ruined gateway and crumbling walls of 
that grim old robber-hold, the Alt Schloss, beneath the 
mossed and melancholy firs of the Black Forest. 



XXIX. 

THE SUN-BUEST OYER IRELAND. 

" See ! — there is the ' Irish sun-burst,' now !" cried a 
little lady, clapping her hands, as we were running up 
toward Cape Clear on the morning of first making the 
Irish coast — when the sun, till then behind a thick bank of 
clouds, burst through a rift and sent a shower of golden 
arrows down on the mountains of Cork and Kerry. I 
thought the play on words a happy one ; for scarcely even 
Erin's harp of gold on a field of green filled the phrase 
so well; and I said: "If I ever succeed in landing in 
Ireland, and afterward record my impressions, the * Sun- 
burst over Ireland ' shall be the title." Voild! 

The sun-burst was very brief that morning ; so was my 
visit to the Green Island, caught when the Captain and all 
my other pleasant traveling-companions had dropped away 
for more of the Continent, for Wales, Scotland, the " Black 
North,'' &c., and when I almost fancied, as I landed, that 
I could hear the blowing steam, at Liverpool, of the " City 
of London " coming to pick me up at Queenstown. But 
much may be accomplished in three days, by an A'tnericaji^ 
at this period of railways and fast steamers, as I had before 
made proof in my Scottish experience; and three days 
gave me glimpses of Dublin, Cork, and Killarney — centers 
of interest of the South of Ireland — if they afforded me no 
more. 

Indeed, I began with the "fast steamers;" for the four 



THE SUN'-:QURST. 367 

paddle-wheel iron mail-packets between Holyhead and 
Kingstown — the Mnnster, Leinster, Ulster, and Connanght 
— are boasted to be among the stanchest and speediest in 
the world ; and certainly the Connaught, last built and 
largest (port-dued at five or six hundred tons, and really 
measuring more than two thousand !) seems worthy of the 
claim — a powerful, clipper-looking, long, low, two fore-and- 
aft raking-funneled black monster, capable of meeting the 
rouo;hest waves of the rous^h Irish Channel without a 
tremor, and of doing her twenty miles an hour, even in a 
sea-way, under any ordinary circumstances ! 

At all events, she bore me over right gallantly, when I 
ran down in the night from Liverpool by Chester, crossing 
the wild Welsh moors and rumbling through the splendid 
tubular bridge of the Menai just at early daylight; that 
is, I think she bore me over gallantly. There seems to be 
a blank in recollection, shortly after coming on board and 
going through a yawning admiration of the vessel ; and 
tradition records that the Governor occupied some one 
else's state-room and slept soundly therein, all the way 
across, only waking in time to catch a glimpse of the bold, 
broad Hill of Howth lying at the right lip of Kingstown 
harbor and the magnificent light-housed breakwater de- 
fending it, — and then to be bundled into the train in wait- 
ing on the wharf for the short run of a few miles (perhaps 
four, perhaps ten) from Kingstown port to Dublin city. 

Fairly on Irish soil at last, after so many years of wish- 
ing and three narrow escapes from previous visits. Me- 
thinks I felt the brogue coming into my tongue at once, 
and realized the necessity of saying " Musha, bad luck to 
yez !" " Mavourneen acushla machree !" " Death to me 
sowl !" and " Be jabers !" at the earliest possible mo- 
ment when those classical terms could be brought into 
use. For Paddy was there, from the start — there, person- 
ally and in atmosphere. If there were plenty of bathing- 
16* 



368 PARIS IN '67. 



• 



places lining tlie shore on the right, as we ran up toward 
Dublin, and if many of the walled grounds were well laid 
out, hedged and handsomely shaded, — did not the low, 
irregular, turf-roofed, whitewashed cabin begin to heave 
into view, with the door-yard (when it had one) a mass of 
debris and refuse, the domicile of the pig and the donkey 
plainly perceptible at one end and under the same roof; 
and Paddy himself, hosed, breeched, bad-hatted, inevitably 
smoking a short pipe, and very shiftless-looking, lounging 
at the door or making slow pretense of work about the 
yard or on the road ? There was much ivy on the walls 
and sometimes creeping up the sides of the cottages — tbat 
ivy which I afterward found almost universal, and of such 
rapid growth that scarcely any thing could be kept clear of 
it; but ah, I said to myself then, and had often occasion to 
repeat the remark and never to recall it — had not a corre- 
sponding ivy of carelessness and indolence seemed to over- 
grow the national character quite as decidedly, whether 
from something native to the soil, or under the influence 
of the long cloudy- weather of oppression and dismal pros- 
pect, who shall pretend to decide ! 

Here, and even before entering Dublin, let me say a general 
word or two more, that may save the necessity of many 
repetitions. Ireland — southern Ireland at least — is among 
the most beautiful of lands ; its sky peculiarly bright while 
soft (good weather understood) ; its atmosphere balmy 
and undeniably healthy ; its sod green enough to justify 
the appellation of " Emerald Isle ;" its mountains pictu- 
resque, and susceptible of a peculiar hazy purple, making 
them lovely in distance ; its cabins charming bits for the 
traveler and the painter, from their soft rounded shape, 
as well as their artistic color of not-too-staring white, re- 
lieved by brown roof and surrounding green. The eye is 
pleased in all this, and the sense of the beautiful is cer- 
tainly satisfied as it can be in but few countries under the 



TEE SUIT-BURST. 369 

sun; but there an end. The /^^cZ^^mewi? is any thing else 
than satisfied, ordinarily; for Mr. Pierce Egan's "trail of 
the serpent " is " over all," in the shape of that word once 
before used — shiftlessness ; and Miss Ophelia, who was only 
half-maddened by the Topsey surroundings, would have 
gone stark mad over the make-shifts of Barney and Bridget. 
To do for to-day and let the morrow take care of itself 
seems to be the predominant characteristic ; there is a sense 
of; "This thing cannot last and is not expected to last — 
they all intend to move away in a day or two, or a month 
or two." And if at times I have occasion to praise Avith- 
out stint, as to something in scenery or arrangement, let it 
be remembered that there is generally a heart-ache under- 
stood. And now, after this portion of a " sun-burst " which 
might better be designated a burst of ill-natured and pelt- 
ing rain, and after having vented what is no doubt a false- 
hood to half of the visitors to Ireland, and the merest of 
platitudes to the other half — now on to Dublin, or rather 
to disembark after having reached that metropolis. 

The Irish jaunting-car is an " institution " — as impos- 
sible to have originated elsewhere, as not to have origin- 
ated in this particular country. It seems to have been 
built on the national plan (for to me Ireland is a " nation," 
even if no Parliament meets and wrangles in the old build- 
ing), of going it at a gallop.^ aoid everybody holdiyig on. 
Scores have mentioned riding in it, but who has described 
it ? Mr. Barney Williams (a great favorite, by the way, 
around the Lakes of Killarney, whence he has derived so 
many of the O'Donoghue and other legends) imported 
one of them several years ago, and yet not many of the 
stay-at-homes have seen it. It is an open cart, drawn by 
one horse, rather low and very narrow wheeled, with a 
driver's seat in front, a w^ide cushion fastened lengthwise 
to form the center, and a narrower cushion on each side 
and lower, on which the riders half sit and half lounge, 



370 PARIS IN '67. 

facing sidewise and outward, leaning back and elbows on 
tbe higher cushion, or " holding on " when the arrange- 
ment is in " full bounce " — the legs, meanwhile, hanging 
down a side-board and resting on a sort of long step into 
which the side-board turns at bottom. Nothing else could 
seem so much like upsetting, or throwing off the riders 
with a jerk ; and yet nothing else could be so jolly, so 
rattling, so go-ahead, so "precisely the Xhmg^^— for Ire- 
land ; nor do I know whether Paddy would not die out 
or suffer a worse change than that of Bottom into the 
donkey, were either this particular vehicle, the short pipe, 
or the shillalegh withdrawn from his management. 

But why describe the jaunting-car as the first object of 
interest in Ireland ? Simply because it was really the first 
thing over which I stumbled. In and about that queer 
labyrinth of a Dublin Station, out of the lapped walls of 
which one gets as the ring squeezes tightly out of a " ring- 
puzzle," there were so many cars that the whole might 
have been a field and they the plants — each more or less- 
shabbily harnessed to a horse rather pony-ish in stature, 
generally thin and bearing the marks of having been 
habitually persuaded to go a shade faster than was con- 
sidered indispensable by the beast itself; Paddy on seat, 
duly accoutered, often piped, always with the stump of a 
whip in hand, calling out for fares with Milesian sly 
wit in the very words of the invitation, and chaffing other 
car-drivers in a manner yet more rough, hearty, and reck- 
less. 

And it was in a jaunting-car, out of which I expected to 
be tipped every moment, that I made my hasty flight 
around Dublin, with brief occasional pauses and alight- 
ments, during which the driver dropped instantly from his 
seat to smoke more at ease on the ground, and the horse 
went quietly to sleep between the shafts. It was thus that 
I dashed through and around Merrion Square, pleasant old 



THE SUIT -BURST. 371 

haunt of the true Irish aristocracy, where yet the shade of 
the railed square, and the solid look of the old brown brick 
houses, tell of undoubted gentility, even if faded. By Ste- 
phen's Green, another and much larger square, where 
executions were once held, and many a true patriot and 
many a scoundrel went to his account, now empty, well 
shaded at the edges, though a little bare in the center, 
stone-posted and iron-chained without, and a fresh deposit 
of timber indicating that it might soon be the arena of a 
cattle-show ! By and into the Exhibition Building, so 
popular in 1865 — large and handsome but irregular, half 
stone structure and half crystal palace; part of it still used 
as a standing exhibition of fruits, flowers, &c., and the 
large glass hall as a concert hall and ball-room — the whole 
with extensive and handsome gardens behind, and unman- 
nerly two-legged pigs in charge. By the police barracks, 
on Upper Nevin Street, with high crenelated walls, police- 
men drilling in the manual of arms, and general appearance 
of "meaning business." By and into (immediately oppo- 
site) fine old St. Patrick's Cathedral, of which Dean Swift 
was once dean, and where, if the impressive outside and 
massive square tower, spire-crowned, are modern or a 
restoration, and if much of the handsome Gothic interior 
is also a remodeling, the great granite arches forming the 
nucleus and visible on first entering, are said to date back 
to 370! 

St. Patrick's has a knightly interest, too, corresponding 
to St. Paul's in London and St. George's Chapel at Wind- 
sor ; the seated stalls and hanging banners, marking where 
once took place the installations of all the Knights of St. 
Patrick, as in the others those of the Bath and the Garter. 
The sharp, quizzical face of Dean Swift stares down in bas- 
relief from one of the side-walls near the entrance ; on a 
handsome altar-tomb at the extreme lies a marvelously 
effective and characteristic effigy of the late Archbishop 



872 PARIS IN '67. 

Whately, giant in the war of logic; a handsome bust with 
inscription tells of John Philpott Curran, most wicked wit 
of his time; and monuments to Thomas Jones, Archbishop 
of Dublin, died 1619 — Roger Jones, Earl of Ranelagh, 
1620 — Richard Boyle, Earl of Cork and Lord Treasurer, 
1629 — these, with the battle-torn colors of the Royal Irish 
18th Regiment, and many other suggestive reminders of 
their prowess and loss in the Indian wars, make up no 
small proportion of interest for the inside of St. Patrick's, 
and offer attractions for a quiet day instead of a fleeting 
half-hour. But 1 stayed too long, even then ; for when I 
emerged again from the door-way, a short-piped specimen 
of the genus Hiberniciis (strong emphasis on the last 
syllable), "pitched into me" a little, evidently on theolo- 
gical grounds. 

" Wud yez give me a light to me poipe ?" (seeing me 
striking a match for my extinguished cigar). " Certainly, 
Paddy !" (handing over the match). " Maybe ye like 
dhawt !" (pointing to the building). " Of course I do ; it is 
a fine old church, and has a good many interesting monu- 
ments ; don't you like it ?" — " Divil burn me but I donH, 
nor thim as likes it, aither !" — " Oh, I see !" (a dim con- 
sciousness of the truth beginning to creep through the 
Governor's thick skull) — " you're a Catholic, and that is 

Protestant ; and that's what's the matter, eh ?" *' 

blazes, but I awm, dhawt same ; and sorra many more av 

thim 'ud be trapesin through dhawt, I'm thinkin,' if ." 

" Yes, if you had your way ; but don't it strike you, my 
friend, that if you would pay more attention to the means 
of providing yourself with a sounder pair of breeches, and a 
little less to thinking of tearing down St. Patrick's and mob- 
bing people who go into a different church from your own, 
you'd be a trifle better off?" " Yes, by the Lord, he would ! 
Terry, aren't ye ashamed of yerself I Give him a shillin', 
yer honor, and he'd feel betther ; only that he's not worth 



THE S UN- BURST. 373 

it !" So broke in my driver, coming np at the moment ; 
and under cover of that reinforcement I jumped on my 
car and we drove away — I vrondering the while whether 
the time ever looidd come, when men ceased to make the 
bitterest of enmities out of the ostensible worship of the 
Prince of Peace, and whether Ireland would or would not 
be the last place reached by that moral millennium. 

There is another millennium, too, needed for Dublin — 
a physical one, as any traveler will believe who goes down 
into St. Patrick's Close, Bull Alley, and some of the other 
streets behind the Cathedral. Then, if not before, he will 
find no difSculty in believing the saying, that " Dublin is 
the dirtiest city in the world ;" for " shiftlessness " turns 
into " piggishness," thereanent, the smells are terrible, and 
the sights of poverty and wretchedness only less so. Mis- 
erable old houses ; yet more miserable old shops, selling 
every thing decayed ; squalid children in the door-ways ; 
more squalid women, inevitably cloaked and bareheaded, 
wandering aimlessly; incomparably squalid girls, with 
scarcely rags to cover them decently, crooning low bal- 
lads in cracked voices ; indolence, quarreling, obscenity, 
blows — all the offensive features that " low quarters " pre- 
sent in American cities, but all appearing to be intensified 
even beyond the same characteristics in the dangerous 
parts of Glasgow and the dirty of Old London. 

On, again (yet by jaunting-car), by and into the quad- 
rangle of Dublin Castle, a heavy stone pile, on what seems 
to be the highest ground in the city, and one massive round- 
tower lending it height and dignity. There is a range of 
columns at the vice-regal entrance, within the- quadrangle, 
and troops were drilling there, Avith a reminder that " the 
green " is not yet " above the red " in Ireland ; but I con- 
fess that, looking on the dingy old pile and the stone-paved 
yard, I was all the while thinking much more of Jack Hin- 
ton the Guardsman, Paul and Mrs. Rooney, O' Grady, and 



374 PARIS IN '67. 

the uproarious nonsense which Lever has woven round the 
place, than of all its undeniable historical associations. 
And something of the same feeling assaulted me a few. 
minutes later, in front of Trinity College — a heavy, long- 
columned, four-storied, gray and academic-looking build- 
ing, which has given out a world of learning and talent to 
the service of mankind, but which always seems to sug- 
gest, when one hears of it, that the students must be 
"ne'er-do-weels" and "hard cases," and always at jolly 
war with the Proctor and the Faculty. 

Somewhat more serious was the feeling, only a moment 
yet later, and immediately opposite, looking at the Bank 
of Ireland, low but imposing-looking, circular-pointed, 
heavy-columned — and remembering that it held Ireland's 
legislative body as the Parliament House, less than a cen- 
tury ago — though, to be sure, Ireland may be like some 
other countries tbat could be named, needing 'more m^oney 
and less legislation^ so that possibly parliament houses, or 
even congressional halls, may change to banks, and the 
world be none the poorer ! Then another feeling, blend- 
ing the recognition of propriety and audacity, came still 
a little later, when around in Thames Street, almost within 
stone's throw of the Castle, I found O'Connell standing at 
full length on the steps of his old Conciliation Hall, his 
retrousse nose as defiant as ever, and his whole stony atti- 
tude indicative of badgering the government in death as 
in life. 

Then we were away over the Liffey — a pretty enough 
stream with some very handsome bridges and a fair 
amount of shipping showing below — which would keep 
singing in my ears that not very classical quatrain :■ — 

"An Irishman angling one day in the Liflfey 

That runs down by Dublin's swate city so fine — 
A smart shower of rain falling, Pat, in a jiffy, 
Crept under the arch of a bridge with his line." 



\ 



TEE SUN-BURST. 375 

Away into handsome Little Sackville Street, with its 
Grecian-fronted post-office, and the inevitable Nelson on a 
tall fluted column before it — up Frederick Street and 
away toward the open country northward and eastward; 
the squalid poverty of the slums changed into the decent 
poverty of long rows of picturesque, whitewashed, stone- 
thatched cabins, not much larger than kennels, but some- 
how inoffensive even in the misery that sits and smokes 
and croons at the doors ; a large double house not far 
away betraying a significant omen in the sign of " Dublin 
Female Penitentiary," and beyond it a long, low, strong- 
looking building, wdth two purposeless centre-towers, con- 
fessing Mountjoy Prison, so Avell known in late Fenian 
history. This, a wilderness of donkeys, carts, begging- 
boys and squalid people ; a little episode in the rej)ly of 
my driver to my assurance that " if the day was hot, it 
was nothing to the heat in America " — that : " He'd niver 
be able to live in Ameriky at-all-at-all, wid dhe hate ; but 
dhey did have days cowld enough, about Dublin, to freeze 
dhe brass tail aff an iron monkey !" — this blended wonder 
in meteorology and natural history, and then Glasnevin 
Cemetery. 

A level-lying, quiet, sweetly-shaded and admirably- 
kept " city of the dead," — lacking the effects of hill and 
lake which make some of the American cemeteries so 
lovely, but in all other regards the very ideal of its class, 
and by far the handsomest that I have yet seen in Europe. 
I shall not soon forget the quiet beauty of its shaded 
walks, its wealth and variety of flowers, the fragrance of 
its lime-trees, the songs of its birds, the hum of its bees, 
and the touching and simple faith of many of its inscrip- 
tions — besides the notable and most praiseworthy fact that 
Catholics and Protestants consent to slumber quiethj side 
by side within it! Then O'Connell lies in a charming 
raised circle in the centre, the tomb open-screened, and 



376 PARIS IN '67. 

ever-renewed flowers visible on the exposed bronze coffin 
— though the monument over him is only of wood, and 
they are making preparations to remove the body to the 
base of the Observatory-tower ; as they say, and no doubt 
say well, that " I^o monument is high enough for O'Con- 
nell, that cannot be gazed upon from the sea by every one 
approaching Ireland." I am not ambitious of picking out 
cemeteries for personal repose, any more than of selecting 
premature coffins : if I were so, and no native land called 
me home to sleep in its bosom, I think that of all places 
in memory Glasnevin best fills the ideal of " a place to 
rest in." 

Hark ! hush ! There came the tolling of a bell from the 
modest and handsome little chapel standing just within the 
entrance; and as I approached the gate, passing out, I 
felt, more truly than for many a long year before, the sad 
truth of that Latin couplet which so many remember as a 
school exercise : " Pallida mors,''^ &c., the English transla- 
tion expressing the sentiment very felicitously : — 

" Pale death with equal hand unbars the door 
Of lordly hall and hovel of the poor." 

For up to the gate, from without, came a little train, on 
foot, the priest walking in front, a boy swinging a censer, 
the cheap coffin borne on the shoulders of four, and 
mourning poverty visible in every detail of the scanty pro- 
cession ; and almost before they had passed in, another 
came up, rich hearse nodding-plumed, carriages by the 
score, evangelical clergymen in scarfs, and bearers making 
the same display, the coffin in rose-wood and silver, and 
wealth as evidently going to burial as poverty had been 
but the moment earlier. I uncovered to the first, I 
remained uncovered for the second, marking the diffi^rence 
in burial, creed and cost ; and I could not avoid silently 



THE SUK-BUE8T. 377 

repeating a suggestive line of Simmons, many years ago in 
Blackwood : — 

"May their souls, at the Judgment, not sever as wide !" 

A ride around the Phoenix Park, the lower or city-ward 
end of it amply shaded, the large remainder (for it must 
cover hundreds of acres) with fine drives, but a paucity of 
shade, and many portions of it dotted with fine cattle and 
deer; a glance at the unpretending building with hand- 
some grounds, called the Viceregal Lodge and at present 
afibrding residence for the popular Marquis of Abercorn ; 
another glance at the broad, handsome green lawn, at the ^ 
upper end, with a raised stand for reviewing-ofiicers, 
called the " Fifteen Acres" and supplying the well known 
Dublin ground for the parade of troops ; a pause of a few 
moments under the brow of a hill in the same neighbor- 
hood, to see two stripling Hibernians, properly seconded, 
go through a mild imitation of the P. R. fistic encounter, 
concerning which the Governor felt the strong necessity of 
giving a trifle of instruction, coming very near being 
flogged for his pains ; another pause, descending the 
heights from the Phoenix Park, to see how beautiful a pic- 
ture the Irish capital really made, with its squalor not too 
near, its architectural beauties softly prominent, and the 
fine harbor with the bold Hill of Howth stretching away 
behind it, forming a charming background channel-ward — 
these, and the flying visit was over. Half an hoar later 
1 was rolling away by the Great Southern and Western 
Railway for Killarney by Mallow. 

There are few rides really better worthy of description 
than that from Dublin to Mallow, yet that description must 
be withheld. There was a glance at what I believe to be 
the handsomest and largest race-course in the world, on 
the breezy, furze-dotted, turfy heights of the " Curragh of 
Kildare " but only a glimpse of the great barracks where 



378 PARIS IN '67. 

twenty thousand soldiers continually encamp, and not a 
''Wren" visible at either l!^ewbridge Station or Kildare. 
There was a long ride over the Bog of Allen, with abundant 
hasty researches into the mysteries of wet moorland, mis- 
erable though picturesque cabins, bare-legged girls (growing 
better-looking and even handsome, as we ran southward), 
and the spading and piling to dry of the brick-heap-y " sods 
of turf" which supply fuel and thin blue smoke to nearly 
every chimney in Ireland. There were some fine old ruins; 
many notable pictures of peasant and road-side life ; many 
charming mountain-views, principally in distance, especially 
crossing Limerick and approaching Kerry. I did not see 
the "Rakes" at thriving-looking Mallow, as we changed 
trains there ; or I did not know them if I did. And the 
delays, from the constant meeting of cattle and turf trains, 
and from other causes, were so numerous, that it was well 
into the night before I saw the Kerry mountains proper 
lifting themselves ahead as we crossed a long range of 
broken, cabin-dotted but apparently almost worthless coun- 
try, and neared Killarney Station. I had just waking brain 
enough remaining to understand the humbug of the whole 
raft of car-drivers endeavoring to persuade me to go any- 
where else than to the favorite house for which I was 
inquiring, and from which only the best sights can be 
obtained and the riding and boating most conveniently 
enjoyed ; but I must have been more than half asleep when 
at last I succeeded in finding the proper vehicle, and was 
rumbled over a mile of dusky but excellent road to the 
Lake House, in the " Bay of Castle Lough," at the foot 
of the Lower Lake and within fifty feet of its lapping 
waters. 

I strongly suspect description of the Lakes of Killarney 
— or rather attempted description — to have been already 
overdone ; and I shall at least not fall into that error. Lit- 
tle more than a word of them, and of a delicious day around 



THE SUN'-BUEST. 379' 

them ; though many pages might be used without exhaust- 
ing the feeling of admiration that they inspire. 

A delicious day — I said it, and I repeat the remark — 
delicious not alone in weather and scenery, both delightful 
beyond measure, but in the company which chance, or 
something better than chance, threw in my way. I was 
alone, from causes before indicated — alone, and not a little 
sore-hearted as well as travel- worn, and victim to a low 

fever; and in Mr. H S , a quiet, genial, elderly 

Friend, of Carlisle, and his wife so sweetly and matronly 
ripening as the hair whitened on her brow, who kindly 
allowed me to share their boat and then shared my car, 
for the two excursions of the day, — I found something 
nearer to perfection in casual traveling-companionship than 
is often vouchsafed to the restless and run-about. Had I 
but space and any certainty of a reader, how gladly would 
I tell at length of that boat-excursion around all the three 
beautiful and varied lakes, so mountain-set as to seem tur- 
quoises bordered with emeralds. How we had the com- 
pany of the youiig O'Donoghue, guide and coxswain, who 
knew every flower on the banks, every legend of the neigh- 
borhood, and played the sax-horn so sweetly under the 
echoing rocks, that the "Meeting of the Waters," the "Last 
Rose of Summer," and "What will You Do when I am 
Going," seem to have ever a new meaning thenceforth. 
How we took the long row up the Lower Lake, wdth Ross 
Castle (Cromwell's last conquest in Ireland) showing its 
picturesque ruins on the island half hidden by a curve in 
the northern shore; and saw the worn and honey-combed 
rocks protruding everywhere along the edge, each named 
after something of the mythological and legendary O'Don- 
oghue More, from his "Pulpit" to his "Table," his "Chair," 
his " Hen-and-Chickens," and probably even his "Tooth- 
brush." How we landed and rambled around Glena Cot- 
tage, Lord Kenmare's handsome half-Swiss thatched chalet, 



880 PA BIS IN- '6 7. 

on sweet little Glena Bay and under the ragged monntain 
of the same name, at the very head of the Lower Lake. 
How we ran the long narrow passage between the Lower 
and Upper Lakes, with the sweet quiet of the junction of 
all three, called the "Meeting of the Waters,"— and saw 
the very old three-arched stone bridge, called the " Wier 
Bridge," with its mimic rapids below and its memories of 
the time of the Danes. 

How we found the Upper Lake one mass of iron-bound 
shore and arbutus-covered islands, with dangerous, precip- 
itous Macgillicuddy Reeks and sweet Purple Mountain 
bounding the prospect to the west and northwest ; and 
near us the boats, gayly decorated, sweeping by with other 
tourists, and making the foreground humanly beautiful. 
How we lunched on Ronan's Island, with a natural rock 
table, the wild bees humming around us, the kindest of 
hands to dispense the viands, and McCarthy More's and 
Eagle Island seeming to lie by us like sprawling giants 
waving their fans of arbutus to keep oif intruding human 
flies. How we made the passage out into the Middle Lake, 
again by the " Meeting of the Waters," with the wonder- 
ful echoes of Eagle's Nest, and the pretty, lying, carneying, 
black-eyed, bare-legged girls who waded out into the 
water and sold goats'-milk, poteen (" On'y just taste a dhrap 
av the potheen, yer hanner !" — girl of fourteen, loquitur^ 
"Sure it'd make yer hair curl like modher's-milk, more be 
token that it'd be relavin' a poor craythur that has six 
childer stharvin' at the cabin, the day !"), and chains made 
from the tails of the famous Kerry ponies. How we found 
the Middle Lake islandless but rock-girt, with the ruined 
tower of Muckross Abbey peeping over on the opposite 
southern shore, and Muckross Head and rugged Tore 
Mountain and much of the imaginary scenery made doubly 
notable by the " Collegians" and its after-thought the " Col- 
leen Bawn." How we made the passage under arched 



THE SUR-BURST. 381 

Brickeen Bridge, from the Middle again into the Lower 
Lake; and then took that quiet, enjoyable dropping home- 
ward, with Moore's lovely Innlsfallen lying soft under the 
westering sun that was weaving a mantle of royal purple 
over all the distant mountains sinking away behind us. 

These are but pitiful glimpses, I know ; and yet nothing 
more can be given of that supplemental ride in the jaunt- 
ing-car, with that wonderful short-winded pony that 
Dennis praised so highly and " spun," accordingly, around 
the Middle Lake, amid such perfection in timber and 
shade as made the very heart ache to leave it, and among 
such glories in purple flowering heather and broom, as 
shamed the Perthshire Hio-hlands and transferred the best 
"blush" from "Scotland's cheek" to L'eland's. Nothing 
more of rare old ruinous Muckross Abbey, its square 
tower the very finest ivy-grown memorial of the past in all 
recollection — its grave-yard with the tombs so entirely 
covered by the ivy as to be literally hidden beneath it — its 
chancel with some of the fine gothic windows remaining, 
and the tombs of the O'Donoghue and McCarthy More 
sadly recalling the long-gone days of Ireland's savage 
glory — its crypt and cloisters dating back to 1140 — its 
giant yew-tree in the midst of the ivy-drooped court-yard 
— its whole efiect equally romantic, beautiful, and depress- 
ing. Nothing more, and scarcely even so much of the 
ride by (M. P.) Herbert's handsome many-gabled resi- 
dence, " Muckross," away over Brickeen Bridge (so lately 
passed under) ; around the head of the Middle Lake, and 
homeward by the southern side ; the most glorious of 
glimpses over the scattered lakes, continually ; Tore 
Mountain frowning almost overhead during much of the 
return ride ; and innumerable scarfs of foamy white water 
flung down the high, dark parapet of rock, in Tore Water- 
fall that cost us only a few moments of climb into the 
dusky recesses under the mountain. 



382 PARIS IN '67. 

But there was one political fact caught during that ride, 
which must be recorded, even at the expense of scenery. 
Looking over at Macgillicuddy Reeks, and remembering 
how the dark Gap of Dunloe and its silver Serpent Lake 
lay just beyond, something in the names of those magnifi- 
cently-rebellious districts recalled the late troubles, and the 
spirit moved me to ask an impertinent question. " Dennis," 
(to the driver) " have there been any Fenians about here, 
this season ?" A queer cock of his droll eye around at the 
two English people on the opposite seat (backs to us), a 
draw of the mouth that nearly sent me into convulsions of 
laughter that would have spoiled all — and Dennis settled 
the whole political complexion of Kerry at a word. " Is it 
Fenians, yer honor manes ? Thim fellows that goes agin 
the Quane ? Och, divil a wan of thim hereabouts !" — " Not 
07ie^ Dennis?" — "Well," (taking off his caubeen, and 
scratching his head with one finger, while both the eyes 
and the mouth were droller than ever), " maybe there loas 
WAi!^! I did be hearin' of waist, I think, over at the Gap 
o' Dunloe; but they did for him!" Who could doubt 
the rampant loyalty of all Southwestern Ireland, after 
such an assurance as that ? 

What views we had, up the Lower Lake and over the 
mountains forming its magnificent background, that even- 
ing, when the sun was setting in golden mist and wreathing 
the peaks in royal purple, from the splendidly-situated 
Lake House, with proprietor James Coffee (who seems to 
know personally the Bradys, the ConoUys, and half the 
F. F. I's. in New York, and who gave me the just-received 
intelligence of the death of poor Meagher) picking out all 
the distant beauties with a loving eye and a tongue of 
long practice ! How certainly the Lakes of Killarney took 
their position in mind, then, as among the most beautiful 
in all the earth — our own Lake George and Winnipisau- 
kie, Scottish Katrine and Lomond, English Windermere, 



THE SUN-BUEST. 383 

and even Swiss Leman and Brienz, neither left out of the 
calculation nor undervalued. And hov^ regretfully I left 
them the next morning, with a daylight glimpse of pleasant 
and rather pretentious-looking Killarney (village), where 
some of the cottages were very picturesque, and some of 
the black eyes connected with the blue cloaks and bare 
heads were wickedly Spanish and handsome ; rolled back 
to Mallow and changed train for Cork ; sorrowed over the 
unarrested decadence of the Green Island, so evident in 
the crowds of emigrants " for Ameriky," flocking to every 
wayside railway-station, bidding tearful farewells, and 
bending for Queenstown and the steamers ; saw Blarney 
Castle, a fine old group of crumbling towers fairly em- 
bowered in trees (the " Groves of Blarney"), without the 
least wish to " kiss the Blarney-stone ;" duplicated my 
Dublin experience in another jaunting-car ride through 
and around handsome, well-built Cork, and beside the 
"pleasant waters of the river Lee," whereon old Shandon 
Church yet points up its queer, five-storied steeple, and 
tolls out the hours sweetly from its wonderful chime of 
bells ; spent an hour in the dirty and dingy assize-rooms 
at the Court-House, to see that discreditable farce known 
as the " Fenian trials," in which I was not impressed with 
the intellectual caliber of either accused, lawyers or judges ; 
and then enjoyed a favorable view of the river-side public 
grounds, and the really extensive marine trade of Cork, as 
I swept down the Lee to Queenstown and the westward- 
bound " City of London," on a little paddle-wheeler that 
carried a second-rate band and excursionists, .and somehow 
seemed to me to be going down to Fort Hamilton and 
Coney Island. 

My last glimpse of Ireland had something to do with 

the " sun-burst," as my first had done. I was sitting on 

the edge of the stone-bordered esplanade at Queenstown, 

in front of the Queen's Hotel, waiting the steamer-hour— 

17 



384 PA EI 8 IK '6 7. 

and two or three of the middle-sort of Paddies very near 
me. A singular aerial phenomenon attracted my atten- 
tion, and I called that of my nearest neighbor to it. 
" See, Paddy — the scuds up yonder are all flying from the 
northwest, while down here the wind must be southeast, 
for the flag on the hotel, there, is blowing from that 
direction." — " So it is, be jabers ! and that's quare, ony- 
way !" answered Paddy, after observing. " What do you 
think can be the row ? — any thing wrong in the wind, or 
is all the fault in the flag ?" I asked. Paddy took two 
squints around, to see that there was no awkward cus- 
tomer within hearing, satisfied himself by a second glance 
that I was really an American and no English detective in 
disguise, and then, with a contortion of eye and face which 
strongly reminded me of Dennis of the day before, hazarded 
a guess which may have had some reason in it : " Faix^ I 
dovbt Jcnow but ifs dhe wrong flag they have up dhere 
— one that doesn't know how to blow in an Irish wind — 
maybe anodher^d do betther P 

May be it would, Paddy ; may be not — ^I have no idea, 
even if I did set that trap for a native opinion. But let us 
all hope 'that if there ever does come a change of flags, it 
will be the result of no vengeful feeling, but a conscientious 
demand made by one whole nation and acceded to by 
another — ^that it may bring a better and a more substantial 
" sun-burst over Ireland." 



XXX. 

SHIYERINGS OIT SHIPBOARD. 

A MAN may be quite as likely, at sea, I take it, to shiver 
with cold, or even with laughter, as with trepidation ; so 
let it not be inevitably supposed, from the accidental allite- 
ration of the title of this paper, that I am about to describe 
a voyage or series of voyages in which the participants all 
commenced by being reasonably frightened, and finally went 
stark mad with terror. I am merely about to conclude 
this inexcusably-rambling collection of papers, with a few 
brief (very brief) notes of the two passages across the 
Atlantic, which bounded the two ends of the summer's 
adventures. Those who are already tired, or who have 
that innate horror of the sea which makes any reference to 
it an insult, are respectfully invited to "skip this" — lay 
down the book as already concluded : those who believe, 
as I do, that half a trip to Europe, however interesting, is 
involved in the going and returning, may make the venture 
of the two imaginary voyages. 

The Governor went over, again, on an Inman steamer, 
the *' City of Paris," and returned on another of the same 
line, the " City of London." Reasons (for which no one 
has the least disposition to care) varied and conclusive. 
First^ he clung to his before-expressed love for the Clyde- 
built screw-steamship, and had 'seen no reason to retract an 
old opinion that the steamers of that line were alike safe, 
commodious, and quite as rapid as consistent with comfort. 



386 PARIS 12^ '67. 

Second^ he knew quite enough bad French, and had no 
occasion to adopt one of the French steamers in order to 
master the necessary gibberish to ask for a beef-steak and 
some additional potatoes, before reaching the desired Babel. 
Thirds he had not yet shaken off his habit of clinging to 
old friends — believed not only in the "bridge that had 
carried him safe over," but also in the ship that had per- 
formed the same service, and eke in the very Captain that 
had commanded the ship that had performed her part so 
satisfactorily. 

The Governor had temptations to do otherwise — let the 
truth be admitted. The commodious ships of the National 
Line came under his notice very often ; and he had friends 
who crossed in them very frequently, impelled either by 
their very moderate passage-rate for such excellent accom- 
modation (few of the Governor's friends are millionaires — so 
much the worse for hhn!\ or by the fact that they (the^ 
friends — not the ships) had fallen into one pleasant 
*' groove " as he had tumbled into another. And when 

one day D D , the editor-out-of-harness, happened 

to meet him and say : "I have found the ship to go over 
in, old boy ! — the ' Denmark,' of the I^ational Line. Such 
room ! — such substantial comfort, with no fuss and no 
wasted gingerbread ! — such a luxury to have one's state- 
room opening right off from the cabin, and no stumbling 
about to get from bunk to breakfast !" — then for the 
moment the gubernatorial pulse quivered, and he almost 
hesitated in choice. He would quite have hesitated, prob- 
ably, had he had later-acquired demonstration how well 
that same "Denmark" could behave in the most trying 
weather at sea, — or had the colossal " France," which now 
so nobly heads the line, then opened her prairies of decks 
and acres of cabin to view, making us wonder why they 
call the Company a " Limited " one, when there seems no 
limit to either the size, commodiousness, or number of their 



SEIVEEINGS ON" SHIPBOARD. 387 

ships, — or had ComTnodore Kennedy not commanded the 
" City of Parisr 

There are reasons, up to this time artfully concealed, 
why the Governor is peculiarly fond of the Commodore's 
being in command. Print this in small type, if you will — 
but Kennedy aforesaid does keep such a table ! — and the 
Governor, much as his fragile and cadaverous appearance 
may belie the fact, is rather a good knife-and-fork than 
the reverse. Then Kennedy (as had been discovered dur- 
ing the " City of Boston " experience of 1865) is so pleased 
to have the Governor at hand, ready to do digestive 
battle with any dish that may be eschewed by all the rest 
of the passengers — to supply the ship with the due pro- 
portion of merriment, by falling into all the accidents and 
blunders known to the world of misfortune — and to save 
consultation of the barometer by always carefully pre- 
dicting the exact reverse of the weather that is really 
brewing ! 

All these things duly considered, the Governor, his 
friend and relative the Captain (a New Jersey gentleman- 
farmer and ex-coast-navigator, American- continent-trav- 
eled, but making his first run over-sea), and Anna Maria 
(incarnate New York girl, young enough for comfort, 
merry, saucy, fond of travel, and femme sole) took the 
*' City of Paris," unless it may be considered nearer the 
point of fact to say that the " City of Paris " took them. 
They had the most uneventful of passages, which there is 
no intention whatever of describing — nine and a half days 
to Liverpool, without a single spray flung over the bow of 
the race-horse old " Paris," running from three hundred to 
three hundred and thirty miles per day, " hulling down " 
the French and German steamers at will, and crossing 
Liverpool bar within fifteen minutes of the time played-for 
by the confederates (the Commodore and Engineer Hamil- 
ton) from the bar at Sandy Hook ! 



388 PARIS IN' '67. 

Carrying a pleasant company, too, in B , of the Post- 

Office, bluff, jolly, and the best of raw sailors; H , the 

shipping-merchant, who might have seen one of his own 

sail, almost any day ; Rev. Dr. P and Prof. S , of 

Amherst, C -, of Stateu Island, and two or three other 

clergymen, who seasoned the doubtful mass with a little 

unobtrusive piety; W , the Liverpool merchant and 

banker, elsewhere spoken of; R , the landscape-painter, 

and his pleasant wife; Prof F , of the New York Free 

College, much sought after by the French smatterers ; 

L , of the Pennsylvania coal-regions, who breakfasted 

in English, lunched in Dutch, dined in French, took tea in 

Welsh, and went to his state-room in Choctaw ; B , of 

one of the leading New York mercantile houses, too clever 

for the fever that held him half the time prostrate ; G , 

a funny old Franco-American, claiming to be an Expo- 
sition Commissioner from Louisiana, and instructing all 

parties on all subjects; Mrs. A (nach Antwerpen), 

who " cornered " W " better than she knew ;" Mrs. 

F and Miss B , fresh from the Golden Coast and 

pleasantly comparing every thing with California; Dr. 

B and lady (" sands of life " not " run " but running^ 

probably) ; P and Miss R , the latter destined to 

astonish even Paris by her appreciation of Mabille ; etc., 
etc., with a wide field of the omitted before reaching 
nearly two hundred. 

" But where are the * shiverings ' in all this ?" The 
question is a reasonable one ; but ah, Monsieur or Madame 
the inquirer, you were not with us on that passage ! Had 
you been, the wonder would never have been expressed. 
*' Shiverings ?" — if we had nothing else, except the Cap- 
tain's popularity and the Governor's appetite, we had 
them. The Clerk of the Weather, ordered by the debon- 
naire commander to give us smooth seas, revenged him- 
self by sending an atmosphere of icicles. Winter over- 



SHIYERIN-QS ON SHIPBOARD. 389 

coats became trifles, thick shawls cobwebs ; all the false 
teeth in the company were chattered away within twenty- 
four hours ont; half the berth-blankets disappeared, cut up 
into surreptitious additional under-clothing; the lee of the 
hot funnel became the scene of more lights for possession, 
than had ever raged over the Scottish border ; and there 
were innumerable instances of unfortunates being obliged 
to wait until the mid-day sun thawed them out, before 
being able to respond to an inquiry as to their digestion. 
Some of us almost wished, occasionally, that we could 
even have been among Commodore Kennedy's " smoked 
herring " — whereof, by the way, the Commodore does not 
tell very often, so that it devolves upon me to explain the 
allusion. 

Troops were wanted in Canada, very suddenly, in 186 — , 
when our rebellion had disturbed all the line of the St. 
Lawrence. No vessel could carry over enough of them at 
once, except the Great Eastern ; and Capt. Kennedy was 
selected for the command, under the not-unnatural im^^res- 
sion that the barnacles would not grow perceptibly larger 
on the bottom of the " big ship " while he was taking her 
to the Gulf. But the " Great Eastern " had been " lying 
in ordinary;" and though the soldiers were all ready, 
where were the four or five hundred men without whom 
the colossus could not be navigated ? First-class seamen 
were not to be thought of — any thing and anybody must 
be taken ; and the result was a sweep of boarding-houses 
and dock-yards, something on the old press-gang system, 
huddling forcibly on board, just on the eve of sailing, the 
requisite number of able-bodied men and seamen by pro- 
fession, but about the most ungovernable and "hardest 
cases" known to the sea-going service. Immediate dis- 
cipline seemed out of the question. Open mutiny was not 
to be feared, with the bayonets of twenty-five hundred 
soldiers ready to support authority; but how were they 



390 PARIS IN '67. 

to be made of any -working use ? Very soon came the first 
contest as well as the last, and a practical answer to the 
query. Ship away down channel ; morning, and the order 
passed for " scrubbing decks." Nearly the whole body of 
"hard cases" keeping the watch below and refusing to 
" turn out." Enter to them a certain number of the sol- 
diers, who with bayonets prodded or " pitch-forked " them 
out of bunk, after which they did consent to come on 
deck, not yet conquered, and fancying that the worst was 
over. Was it, though ! It is well known that the " Great 
Eastern" has half-a-dozen masts and five funnels; and it is 
also well known that the Welsh coals burned by European 
steamers when coming west, make rather a dense and not- 
too-cleanly smoke — about half ashes and half the remainder 
greasy soot. Into the tops the Captain huddled his quasi- 
mutineers, bayonet-assisted, again; and there he ke]3t 
them, the whole day down-channel, the wind dead ahead 
and the black smoke rolling through those tops with full 
volume and inevitable direction. By night they were the 
" smoked herring " already indicated — the most woful- 
looking and the most obedient body of men possible — so 
well pleased with the man who coidd manage theyn^ that 
not one of them afterwards deserted for the temptations 
of the timber-ships at Quebec, though they had shore-leave 
and all the opportunities freely ofifered. This is the story 
of the " smoked herring," and one of the best instances of 
" executive ability " known to the service — for the telling 
of which story, thus publicly and without permission, let 
the Commodore subject me to the same penalty on my 
next trip with him, if -he is sure of the strength of his tops 
and ratlines. 

Well, the cold but quiet passage came almost too soon to 
an end — the Governor (constitutional grumbler) nut having 
suflered a single absolute discomfort except in the extreme 
difficulty of keeping his patent-leathers from being dragged 



SEIVERINGS ON SHIPBOARD. 391 

away and blacked by Boots, as vulgar calf; and most of 
the vital business of the voyage, after sailing the ship (in 
which, of course, all the passengers took part), footing up 
as Jiirting and checkers. The last sign of expiring vitality 
was shown at the last dinner before making the Irish coast, 
whereat, as usual, the regulation piece of ornamented jelly 
was served at dessert, the British Lion and American Eas^le 
in amicable oppugnation. One of the art-critics suggested 
that the pictured Lion was probably by Landseer, in com- 
pliment to the would'he land-seers who were just then very 
plenty on board ; a second, inquired of as to his reasons for 
stopping at Cork instead of going on to Liverpool, assured 
us that he was going there to see a Cove of his acquaint- 
ance ; and a third, no doubt under some unnamable influ- 
ence, produced a very dark-looking bottle-stopper and 
feelingly remarked that "though he could not have the 
pleasure, just yet, of showing the Port of Cork, he would 
do the next best thing and present the corJc of port.'''' No 
executions or suicides followed ; but perhaps it was quite 
as well that after such an exhibition of morals, the dispersal 
should not be far removed. 

There were very different "shiverings" from those of 
laughter or cold, on the return-run made westward by the 
Governor, on the " City of London," beggared of all his 

outward-bound companions except B , and not a little 

shaken by Mount Rhigi. Boreas had gone into confedera- 
tion with Zephyrus, and the two seemed to have an idea 
that if the Governor could be prevented returning to 
America, the country would be the richer; whereupon 
they sent Tempest and Hurricane, two sturdy males, and 
Cyclone, fiercer than either because a female, to blow in 
the teeth of the gallant ship and work Avhat damage might 
be possible. To say that they succeeded in stopping that 
four-hundred-feet of riveted iron, large enough to stride the 

broadest wave that the Atlantic ever saw, and about as 
lY* 



393 PARIS IN '67. 

secure against twist or wrench as a solid cast-iron pot af 
the same dimensions — this would be simply nonsense ; for 
good-natured but reasonably-determined Captain Brooks 
and his clever officers (Thompson, Duxbury, and the rest — 
the former wearing the medal of the Royal Humane Soci- 
ety for life-saving service in that very life-boat No. 2, lying 
so quietly housed yonder) have a theory, I fancy, that 
would militate against such a check : " This ship belongs 
to the L., ^N". Y. and P. S. S. Co. ; they have ordered her 
taken to New York ; ergo^ to New York she goes, through 
fair weather if she can, through foul weather if she must. 
No other port possible, until this run is over, except 'Davy 
Jones's locker.' *' They do not even heed when Mistress 
Maguire, lying in mortal fright on her state-room floor and 
refusing to undress because she wishes to ' die dacently,' 
sends word by the steward, every half hour, that "if they 
don't turn back to Queenstown, before they drown every- 
body, she'll report every mother's son of 'em !" 

If Tempest and his companions did not succeed in stop- 
ping the good " City of London," they did manage to im- 
pede her materially. They built up great mountains of 
black and white water, up and down which she was con- 
tinually sliding and pitching. They abolished quoits and 

shovel-board ; and rolled pleasant Mrs. M. A. D -, the 

authoress, into a berth which threatened to ingulf her for 
the whole voyage. They made the Rev. Dr. D , him- 
self, remember the time when the old Antelope came so 
near to supplying premature burial to all her passengers, 
in the California '49 days. They hoarsed the musical pipes 

of P and J — — and V and their companions ; and 

even interfered with B 's beggaring one who shall be 

nameless, at euchre and cribbage. They drove the for- 
ward-passengers into unpleasant huddles within, or made 
" lively times " for them when they emerged to daylight. 
And as for their special mark and victim, the Governor — 



SEIVERINQS ON SHIPBOARD. 393 

they prevented his ^^Titing either a play or novel, or falling 
in love beyond very moderate distraction, all the way over; 
they induced him to bore the accommodating Captain out 
of his deck-cabin, in order to sleep beside the barometer, 
that just then seemed the most useful of human inventions ; 
and they threw him, what with rain, spray, desperates lov- 
enliness, and funnel-cinders, into such a chronic state of 
blacked face that not even the Reconstruction Acts would 
have allowed him a vote. 

But all this passed — passed so quickly as almost to leave 
a regret — for the " London " is the most comfortable and 
splendidly handled of ships, even if she does not quite dis- 
pute the palm of speed with the Commodore's. Then 
came the " golden days," the quiet, sunny days, with calm 
sea, when existence was happiness sufficient ; Avhen deck- 
amusements came again into vogue by day, and parlor- 
readings, lectures, and music filled up the enjoyable even- 
ings; when Captain B. again put on his new blue coat 

with the bright buttons, and was irresistible ; when B 

finished his projected little " ruin " at cribbage, and Mis- 
tress Maguire stopped telling her beads ; when flirtation 

recommenced, and the other B and his child-wife again 

nestled cozy on rugs in the sunshine ; and when the Gov- 
ernor bored everybody by explaining precisely the distance 
]by which they had all escaped going to the bottom, as also 
why and wherefore he had not been "shivering" during 
the worst of it ; not he ! 

But ah ! those cozy and lovely days on the Banks, when 
the iodine aroma of the American coast seemed to be 
coming off to meet us and tell of approaching home — they 
had death within their soft beauty, as is sometimes said 
of the flowers ; and for the moment we " shivered" in that 
awful presence brought so near ! There had been a " little 
stranger" conic on board in the forward saloons, a day or 
two after leaving Queenstown — beyond tlie power of the 



394 PABIS IN '67. 

Purser either to prevent or to charge passage (in fact, Dr. 
Rice had most to do with it) ; and perhaps the ship's 
manifest needed correction as to number. At all events, 
poor old Mr. L , of Carolina, who had left Queens- 
town by far too ill for safe passage, but lived ener- 
getically through all the rough weather — then, when the 
ship "smelled bottom" (made soundings), yielded up his 
life, and went to a wider country than that from which 
he was half-exiled. He died at early morning, and the 
after wheel-house was a place to be trodden around with 
quiet feet for many hours afterward, while he, who seemed 
to have been one of our fcunily (ah, those shipboard ties 
are closer than landsmen know !) lay there robed and 
cofiined for burial. Then came the soft, quiet afternoon, 
with the cloudless sun going down over a wide expanse of 
waveless, scarcely-rippled silver ; and in the golden sunset 
we gathered with uncovered heads at the port-gangway, 
the coffin draped with the meteor-flag, and resting on its 
plank, balanced across the bulwark, the officers in ser- 
vice-uniform, the Captain reverently holding and reading 
from the Book of Prayer, and the awed passengers press- 
ing close and silently down the long decks. A solemn, 
touching, instructive spectacle, that " burial at sea," for 
the sight of which I had so long half-wished and half- 
feared; nowhere else is sepulture one-hundredth part so 
impressive. 

" Inasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God to take to 
himself the soul of our dear brother * * * we commit his 
body to the deep, in full assurance of the resurrection!" A 
softer tone in the Captain's sympathetic voice; a lower bow- 
ing of the uncovered heads ; a tilting of the plank, and grasp- 
ing of the flag, by the two quartermasters standing beside ; 
a slide ; a plunge of the weighted coffin ; and the " City of 
London " swept on, one less on board, the silver sea flaming 
with the mglten gold of tl;e sunset far behind her, ^n4 the 



SEIYERIirOS Oir SHIPBOARD. 395 

long wreath of her dark smoke seeming to settle down 
over tbe wake at miles beyond, as if to shroud the waves 
holding the wasted form of the Governor's poor old next- 
door neighbor, his long voyage ended even before the 
briefer ! 

Wherewith, and with the recollection that the book thus 
lugubriously launched may not keep afloat much longer 
than the Carolinian's weighted coffin, this rambling record 
finds a conclusion. And yet I do not intend to say " good- 
bye," as a rambler: only "«*< revoir P'' For the sights of 
Old Europe, and the great sea making the pathway thither, 
worth seeing, remembering and prating about, are far as 
ever from having been exhausted, even in the Great Expo- 
sition, its side-shows and excursions. 



THE END. 



PARIS IN 'Ql.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

m I -i-u i l u -i . 1 ■ -■■... — ■. ■ II _ ■ ■ i .. i.._-i I — -■^. _i — ,. ■■— ■ ■ ■■■-■I - ■ ■■— 

AMERICAN VISITORS 

TO 

Are respectfully recommended, before purchasing elsewhere, 
TO VISIT THE WELL-KNOWN ESTABLISHMENT, 

AU BON MARCHE, 

135 and 137, RUE DU BAG, 

PARTS, 

WHEEE THEY WILL FIND 

The Most Magnificent Assortment in the World 

OP 

SILKS, SATINS, 

AND 

DRESS GOODS, 

SUITABLE FOR LADIES. 

Visitors will be waited on by polite and attentive Clerks, 
who speak English fluently. 

Goods sold at the Lowest Price, and for Cash only. 

N.B. — Should Customers purchase Goods, and be dissatisfied 
with them afterwards, the same will be exchanged or re-taken, 
if desired. 



PARIS IN '61.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 



.%^^1^^% 



^ 




THE GREAT PRIZE. 

Exposition Universelle, Paris, 1867. 

The Howe Machine Co. 

ELIAS HOWE, Jr., 

699 Broadway, New York, 

Awarded over Eighty-two Competitors, 

THE HIGHEST PREMIUM, 

The only Cross of the Legion of Honor, 
AND GOLD MEDAL, 

Given to AMERICAN SEWING MACHINES, per Imperial Decree, pubTished in 
the " Moniteur Universel " (Official Journal of the French Empire), Tuesday, 2a 
July^ 1867, in these words: 

vrTtaTTn-arv Txf I Eabricaute do Machines a coudre exposant. 
JLLIA8 iiowE, JB. I Manufacturer of Sewing Machines, Exhibitor. 

They are celebrated for doing the best work, using a much smaller needle for 
the same thread than any other machine. 

The New Improved Family Machine is without a rival, and cannot be sur- 
passed, — a Hemmer, FeUer, Braider, Quilter, and Guide go with each Family 
Machine free of charge. 

Every Machine is as near perfection as the best Machinery in the world can make it. 

They are adapted to all kinds of Family Sewing, and Manufacturing of every 
description, making a beautiful and perfect Stitch, aUke on both sides of the 
articles sewed, and will neither rip nor ravel. 

PRINCIPAL OFFICES. 



New York, 699 Broadway. 
London, 64 Regent st. 
Paris, 48 Boulevard de Sebastopol. 
Boston, Mass., 59 Bromfield st. 
PhUa., Pa., 925 Chestnut st. 
Cincinnati, O., 68 Fourth st. 
Chicdgo, 111., 98 Washington st. 
Baltimore, Md., 17 Sharp st. 



Pittsburgh, Pa., i St. Clair st. 
Detroit, Mich., 5(i Woodward ave. 
Milwaukee, Wis., 410 Main st. 
Cleveland, O., 227 Superior st. 
Buffalo, N. Y., 31() Main st. 
S^Tacuse, 68 South Salina st. 
Albany, N. Y., 45 South Pearl st 
San Fran., Cal., 137 Kearney st. 



SEND FOR CIRCULAR. 

THE HOWE MACHINE COMPANY, 

Manufacturers and Sole Proprietors of the 

HOWE SEWING MACHINE, 
699 Broadway, N. Y. 



PARIS IN 'Ql.— ANNOUNCEMENTS, 



STEINWAY & SONS 

TRIUMPHANT 

AT THE 

Universal Exposition, Paris, 1867. 
STEINWAY & SONS 

HAVE BEEN AWARDED 

The First Grand Gold Medal 

For American Pianos in all Three Styles Exhibited, viz., Grand, Square, and 
Upright, this Medal being DISTINCTLY CLASSIFIED FIRST IN ORDER OF 
MERIT, and placed at the head of the List of all Exhibitors, in proof of which 
the following 

OFFICIAL CERTIFICATE 

Of the President and Members of the International Jury on Musical Instru- 
ments (Class X) is subjoined : 

Paeis, July 20, 1867. 

" I certify that the Flbst Gold MedaIi for American Pianos has been un- 
animously awarded to Messes. Sxeinwax by the Jury of the International 
Exhibition. First on the last in Class X. 

"MELINET, President of International Jury. 

Ambboise Thomas, 1 Members of the 
Ed. Haksltck, }■_ ^ ,. , ^ „ 

F. E. Gevaf.et, International Jury." 

J. SCHXEDMAYEE, J 

This unanimous decision of the International Class Jury, endorsed by the 
Supreme Group Jury, and affirmed by the Imperial Commission, being the, final 
verdict of the only tribunal determining the rank of the awards at the Exposition, 
places The Steinway Pianos at the head of all others, in competition with over 
Four Hundred Pianos entered by the most celebrated European and American 
manufacturers. 

STEIN^WAY & SONS 

WERE ALSO AWARDED A 

FIRST PRIZE MEDAL 

At the Great INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION, London, 1862, for Powerful, 
Clear, Brilliant, and Sympathetic Tone, with Excellence of Workmanship as 
shown in Grand and Square Pianos, in Competition with 269 Pianos from ail parts 
of the World. 

STEINWAY & SONS, in addition to the above, have taken Thtety-five 
FinsT Pbemicms, Gold and Silver Medals at the Principal Fairs held in this 
country from the year 1855 to 1862 inclusive, since which time they have not 
entered their Piano-fortes at any Local Fair in the United States. 

EVERY PIANO IS WARRANTED FOR FIVE YEARS. 

Warerooms, First Floor Steinway Hall, 109 & 1 1 1 E. 14th St. 
Between 4th Ave. and Irving Place, NEW YORK. 



PARIS IN 'Q1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 



SEVENTY 

GOLD OR SILVER MEDALS, 

Or other highest premiums, have been awarded within a few years at the 
principal Industrial Fairs of the country, to 

MASON & HAMLIN, 

- Manufacturers of 

CABINET ORGANS. 

THEIR INSTRUMENTS HAVE THUS BEEN 

REPEjrEDLT DECLARED "THE BES% 

AT THE FOLLOWING, AMONG OTHER FAIRS : 

THE PARIS EXPOSITION, 1867. 

Massachusetts Charitable Mechanics'' Association^ 
Boston. 
Franklin Institute^ Philadelphia. 
American Institute^ New Tori. 
Maryland Institute^ Baltimore. 
Mechanics'" Institute^ Cincinnati. 
United States Fair^ Chicago. 

Mechanics' Fair, San Francisco, 

AND AT THE STATE FAIRS OF 

New' Tori, Iowa, Bennsylvania, Vermont, Ohio, 
Kansas, Indiana, Rhode Island, Illinois, 

AND EVERY OTHER STATE WHERE FAIRS ARE HELD. 

Address Mason &" Wamlin, 
596 Broadway, New York. 154 Tremont St., Boston. 



FAJRIS IJSr 'Ql.—AJSrjsrOUNCEMJENTS, 



THE 



GRANT LOCOMOTIVE 
WORKS, 

PATERSON, - - - NEW JERSEY. 



BUILnERS OF 



EXPRESS, PASSENGER AND FREIGHT 

LOCOMOTIVES, 



RECEIVERS OF THE . 

Great Gold Medal (First Prize), 



AT THE 



PARIS EXPOSITION OF 1867, 



FOR THE 



LOCOMOTIVE "AMERICA." 



ppFicE IN Kew York, No. 33 Wall St. 



PARIS IN '^1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 



The Root Steam Engine Co., 

MANUFACTURERS OF 

ROOT'^TRUNK ENGINES 

STATIONARY, PORTABLE, AND MARINE. 

SgUARE Double -Piston Hoisting 
ENGINES, 

Hoisting Machinery for Stores, Warehouses, &c., Steam Boilers, Portable 

Saw Mills, &c. 

SALESROOM, OFFICE, AND WORKS, 

500, 502, 504, 506 & 508 Second Avenue, cor. 28th 
St.; and 303 East 28th St. 

WM. P. ABENDROTH, Pres. "VT '\T JOHN B. ROOT, Cons'ng Eng'r. 
T. c. M. PATON, Treas. J. ^ • X • jqhn f. mills. Secretary. 

FRANK S. CARPENTER, Sup. FREDERICK W. BROOKS, Gen. Agent. 

DESCRIPTIVE PAMPHLET ON APPLICATION. 

PRIZE MEDAL AT PARIS EXHIBITION. 

ROOTS SECTIONAL 

WROUGHT-IRON 

SAFETY BOILER 

COMBINES THE ADVANTAGES OF 

POSITIVE SAFETY 

From destructive explosion, the highest economy of fuel, durability, great 
compactness and lightness, perfect accessibility for examination, cleaning, or 
repairs. Being composed of uniform parts, it can be increased or decreased 
in size readily ; all sizes have the same strength, and injured parts can be 
removed and replaced vi^ithout disturbing the rest of the boiler. Being sec- 
tional, the largest boilers can be put into most inaccessible locations ; and 
no piece need weigh over loo pounds, hence especially adapted to mining 
and distant points. It gives superheated steam without separate apparatus, 
and gets up steam very quickly. Cost of setting much below ordinary 
boilers. Prices reasonable. Descriptive circulars, drawings, estimates, and 
references, on application. Boilers of all sizes delivered promptly. 

JOHN B. ROOT, 
Second Avenue, cor. 28th St., New York, 



FABIS IN 'Q1.—ANN0UNGI3IENTS. 

C. G. GUNTHER & SONS, 

Nos. 502 and 504 Broadway, 
NEW YORK CITY, 

Fur Dealers and Furriers, 

Importers, Manufacturers and Shippers of 

RAW FURS AND SKINS, 

Ladies' Furs, 

Gents' Furs, 

Children's Furs, 
Fur Robes and Skins. 

Established by Christian G. Gunther, at 46 Maiden Lane, 
1820. Removed from the Old Stand, April, 1866, after 46 
years* permanent location. 



SILVER MEDAL AWARD, 



FOR 



Exhibition of Fine Furs and Skins, 

Paris Exposition, 1867. 



PARIS IN 'Ql.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 



TIFFANY & CO., 

Nos. 550 and 552 Broadway, 
NEW YORK CITY. 

(House in Paris, Tiffany, Reed 8c Co., Rue Richelieu, 79.) 

DEALERS IN 

DIAMONDS, 

AND OTHER PRECIOUS STONES, 
FINE JEWELRY, 

BRONZES, 

FINE GAS-FIXTURES, 

SILVER WARE, 

AND 

PARISIAN FANCY ARTICLES. 



Highest Prize Medal for Silver Ware 

AT THE 

PARIS EXPOSITION. 



PARIS IN '^1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

C. A. STEVENS & CO., 

Gold and Silversmiths, 

No. 40 East 14th Street, Union Square, N. Y., 

Importers of 

DIAMONDS, 

WATCHES, 

FINE JEWELRY, 
CLOCKS, REAL BRONZES, 

PORCELAIN WARE 

Of Every Variety, 
BISQUE, 

PARIAN, 

SEVRES, 

TABLES, 

TAZZAS, 
CABINETS, 

STANDS, 

VASES, 

GROUPS, 

STATUETTES, 

And a choice variety of recherche articles of bijouterie, taste, 
and articles of virtu. 

PARTICULAR ATTENTION GIVEN 
To the manufacture of Silver Ware, 

FOR PRESENTATIONS AND WEDDING 

PRESENTS, 

For which Designs will be furnished ; as also to 

THE SETTING OF DIAMONDS 

AND OTHER PRECIOUS STONES, 

Under our personal direction, and in our own Establishment* 

C. A. Stevens &Co., 

40 East 14th St., Union Square. 



PARIS IN 'Q1.^ANN0UNCEME^''TS. 



THE 

Florence Sewing-Machine, 

In addition to the award of the 

SILVER MEDAL AT THE PARIS EXPOSITION, 

has also carried off the highest honors at the principal Fairs and Industrial Exhibitions 
the present season— having received the highest prize at each of the following exhibi- 
tions: 

NEW ENGLAND AGRICULTURAL FAIR, at Providence. 

NEW YORK STATE FAIR, at Buffalo. 

MECHANICS' ASSOCIATION FAIR, at Lowell. 

MARYLAND INSTITUTE FAIR, at Baltimore. 

AMERICAN INSTITUTE FAIR, at New York. 

It would seem that the unprecedented success of the FLORENCE against the most 
Strenuous competition, in thus winning for itself the first honors at aU the above named 
exhibitions, would be sufficient to convince every unprejudiced mind of the great superi- 
ority of the Florence over all others as a Family Sewing-Machine. 

FLORENCE S. M. CO., 505 Broadway. 



E. W. BURR, 



Established, 1832. 



791 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, 



IMPORTER OF 



Diamonds, Rubies, Emeralds, Opals, Pearls, 
Stone Cameos, 

AND OTHER RARE GEMS. 

Also, fine Watches of all the celebrated makers ; and Manufac- 
turer of every description of fine Jewelry and Enameled Work, 
from the latest European styles, at manufacturers' prices. 

A superfine quality of sterling Silver Ware made to order 
from original designs. 



PARIS IN '61.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

New York to Liverpool, 
INMAN LINE. 



THE LIVERPOOL, NEW YORK and PHILADELPHIA 
STEAMSHIP COMPANY 

Dispatch their 

Splendid Full-Powered Clyde-Built Steamships, 

from New York for Liverpool and 

All Parts of Europe, 

Every Saturday and Wednesday; 

Carrying the U. S. Mails. 

MAIL STEAMERS SAILING SATURDAYS. 

CITY OP PARIS Capt. Kennedy. 

«« ANTWERP " Mirehonse. 

" LONDON " Brooks. 

•« BOSTON " Leitch. 

«« BALTIMORE " McGuigan, 

WEDNESDAY STEAMERS. 

CITY OF WASHINGTON Capt. Roskell. 

" MANCHESTER Capt. Manning. 

" NEW YORK Capt. Roskell. 

" DUBLIN Capt. Eynon. 

EDINBURGH Capt. Bridgeman, 

&c., &c. 

RATES OF PASSAGE ALWAYS THE MOST REASONABLE 
OFFERED IN FIRST-CLASS STEAMERS. 

NEW YORK TO ANTWERP 

Every four Weeks. 

CITY OP CORK Captain Jonea. 

ETNA " Tibbetta. 

CITY OF LIMERICK " Lochead. 

JOHN G. DALE, Agent, 

No. 15 BROADWAY, New York. 
PHILADELPHIA OFFICE, 411 Chestnut street. 



I 



PARIS IN 'Ql,— ANNOUNCEMENTS, 
THE 

National Steamship Company 

(Limited) 

Dispatch the following Splendid and Commodious Ships of 

their Line 

FROM NEW YORK TO LIVERPOOL, 

CALLING AT CORK HARBOR, 

Every Saturday, 

From the Company's Wharf, Pier 47, North River. 

FRANCE, - . . Capt. Grace. 

ENGLAND, - - - Capt. Cutting, 

' THE gUEEN, - - - Capt. Grogan. 

DENMARK, - - - - Capt. Thomson. 
HELVETIA, - - - Capt. Thompson. 
ERIN, ----- Capt. Hall. 
PENNSYLVANIA, - - Capt. Lewis. 

VIRGINIA, - - - Capt. Prowse. 

LOUISIANA, . - - Capt. Webster. 

Rates of Passage, Payable in U. S. Currency. 

To Liverpool or Queenstown $100 

London 110 

Hamburg 125 

Bremen 135 

Antwerp 125 

Havre 125 

Paris 125 

Tickets to Liverpool and Return 180 

Prepaid Cabin Tickets from Liverpool or Queenstown, ... 90 

For further information apply to 

F. W. J. HURST, Manager, 

C7 Broadway. 
18 



PARIS IJV 'Q1,—ANN0UNCEMENTS, 

BALL, BLACK & CO., 

565 & 567 Broadway, New York. 



HOUSE IN PARIS, 

No. 8 Rue St. George. 



Dealers in 



DIAMONDS 



AND OTHER 



PRECIOUS STONES, 

BRONZE CLOCKS, 

Gas Fixtures, Statuary. 



MANUFACTURERS OF 



SILVER WARE, 

PLATED WARE, 

AND FINE CUTLERY. 



LARGE ASSORTMENT OF 



F AN C Y GOODS. 



PARIS IN 'Q1— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

LORD & TAYLOR, 

Nos. 461, 463, 465 & 467 Broadway, ) 

Nos. 255, 257, 259 & 261 Grand St., V NEW TORK, 

Nos. 47 & 49 Catherine Street, ) 

Fashionable Dry Goods, 

Including Rich Paris Silks, Dress Goods, Laces, 
Embroideries, Linens, Hosiery, Shawls, Cloaks, Man- 
tillas, &c., &c. Also, 

CARPETINGS, 
CURTAIN MATERIALS, 

Lace Curtains, Window Shades, Cornices, Fixtures, 
Piano and Table Covers, and House Furnishing Goods 
of every description. Also in the 

LADIES' & CHILDREN'S 

Furnishing Department, 

Breakfast Robes, Robes de Chambre, Skirts, Waists, 
Corsets, Corset-Covers, Under Garments, Children's 
Dresses, Cloaks, Sacques, Bridal Trousseaux. 

At Retail &• Wholesale, 

BELOW REGULAR PRICES. 



PABIS IN 'Q1,— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

FAIRBANKS' SCALES 

TAKE THE 

FIRST PREMIUMS 

( J-W O yVlE D ALS) 



AT THE 



Great Paris Exposition. 

J|l@* These Scales are manufactured only by the Original Inventors j and 
all others represented as Fairbanks' are mere imitations, of which pur- 
chasers should beware. 

J^^^ They are extremely simple in construction, are made of the Tery 
best materials, by experienced and intelligent workmen, and under the 
strictest supervision of the inventors. 

1|@°* They have been in constant use in all branches of business for 
thirty years, in all parts of the world, and, having been most thoroughly 
tried, are the acknowledged standard. 

Jl^* They have taken more first premiums than all other Scales, and, 
what is of more practical value, have received the award of superior excellence 
by the vast numbers who have used them for many years. 

Jl^" They are fully warranted not only strong and accurate, but durable ; 
and the manufacturers, who are permanently established and fully responsi- 
ble, will always be prompt to make this warranty good. 

Jl^^ They are, owing to the large experience and superior facilities of the 
manufacturers, offered at lower prices than other Scales of equal size and 
strength. 

Illustrated and descriptive Circulars furnished upon application to 

FAIRBANKS & CO., 

252 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, 

OR to 

FAIRBANKS, BROWN & CO., 

118 Milk Street, Boston, Mass. 

FAIRBANKS, GREENLEAF & CO., 

226 Lake Street, Chicago. 

FAIRBANKS, MORSE & CO., 

125 Walnut Street, Cincinnati. 

FAIRBANKS & EWING, 

Masonic Hall, Philadelphia. 



PARIS IN '67.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

517 IVEILES 

OF THE 

Union Pacific Railroad, 

Running West from Omaha Across the Continent, 

NOW COMPLETED. 



The Whole 

Grand Line to the Pacific 

Expected to be 

Opened through hj 1870. 



FIRST MORTGAGE BONDS 

PAY 

Six Per Cent, in Gold, 

And are offered for the present at Ninety Cents on the 

Dollar, and accrued interest at Six Per Cent, in 

Currency, from July i. 

OVER NINE PER CENT. INTEREST. 

Subscriptions will be received in New York, at the Company's Oflace, No* 

SO Nassau st., and by 

CoNTiNENTAi. Natiokai, Bai^, No. 7 Nassau st,, 
Claee, Dodge & Co., Bankers, No. 51 WaU sfc., 
John J. Cis-o & Son, Bankers, No. 33 WaU st., 

and by BANKS and BANKERS generally tkroughout the United States, of whom 

laaps and descriptive pamphlets may be obtained. 



18^ 



JOHN J. CISCO, Treasurer, 

New York. 



PARIS IN 'Q1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

John Stephenson & Co., 

47 EAST 27TH STREET, N. Y. 
Manufacturers of 

S T REET CARS 

AND 

OMNIBUSES. 



AWARD AT THE 



f 



ARIS 






XPOSITION. 



Thirty-six years' experience in this peculiar branch of 
manufacture, enables this House to produce the most 
perfect vehicles of their kind with the greatest dis- 
patch and economy, and adapted to all markets. 



PABIS IlSr 'Q1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

Brewster & Co., of Broome St. 

NEW YORK, 

CARRIAGE BUILDERS, 

Respectfully announce the opening of their new and elegant 

warerooms, on 

Fifth Avenue, Cor. of 14.TH Street 

(OPPOSITE DELMONICO'S). 



Retaining their old establishment on Broome Street, where 
for so many years they have maintained the highest reputation 
for the excellence of their work; and with additional manufac- 
turing facilities, it is their purpose to offer at their Fifth Avenue 
Warerooms an assortment of Carriages in all the fashionable 
styles, equal in every respect to those made to order, and ex- 
clusively of their own build. 

Having no connection with any firm bearing a similar name 
and dealing in Carriages on Broadway, they beg their corre- 
spondents to be particular in addressing letters intended for the 
factory to 

BREWSTER & CO., 

Broome Street, New York. 
And for the Warerooms, to 

BREWSTER & COMPANY, 

Fifth Avenue, New York. 



PARIS IN 'Ql.—ANNOVNGEMENTS. 



707 Broadway, New York City, 

Fine Art Photographers, 

WITH SPECIALTE OF 
IVORYTYPES, 

IMPERIAL PHOTOGRAPHS, 

MINIATURES ON PORCELAIN, 

"CARTES IMPERIALS," 

And CARTES DE VISITE. 



FABRONIUS, GURNEY & SON, 
Chromo-Lithographists, 

AND 

PUBLISHERS OF CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH OF 
Constant Mayer's Celebrated Picture, 

"LOVE'S MELANCHOLY," 

As well as other Celebrated Subjects. 

707 BROADWAY. 



PABIS IN '61.—ANNOUNCE3IENTS. 

BRADY'S 

National Portrait Gallery, 

No. 785 Broadway, cor. 10th St., 
NEW YORK. 



SPECIALITIES OF 

IMPERIAL PHOTOGRAPHS, 

PORCELAIN MINIATURES, 

CARTES DE VISITE, &c. 

Copying from old Pictures, Daguerreotypes, &c« 

Unrivalled Collection of War Views and 
National Portraits. 

JORDAN & CO. 
Photographic Establishment^ 

No. 229 GREENWICH ST., 

Corner Barclay St., NcW York. 



SPECIALTE—" CARTES DES VISITES.^ 



established in 1846. 



PARIS IN 'Ql.— ANNOUNCEMENTS, 



Lakes of Killarney, Ireland. 



THE LAKE HOTEL, 

CASTLELOUaH. 
JAMES COFFEE, Proprietor. 



Late attempts at confounding this well-known and popular house with others 
of Itss enviable reputation and less eligibly situated, make it imperative upon 
the proprietor to state that this house, on the very verge of the LOWER LAKE 
OF KILLARNEY, and in full view of the grandest of the scenery of this 
MATCHLESS CHAIN OF LAKES, is 

THE ONLY LAKE HOTEL 

properly entitled to that name. 

Its advantages over all others may be briefly stated in the foll'Jwing table ol 
distances of the Lake Hotel and certain other leading houses, from the great 
points of interest of the Lakes : 

Lake Hotjse, 

Muckross Abbey, 1 

Tore VVateri'ali, 3 

Punch Bowl, 5 

Denis Island, 6 

Eagle's Nest, 5 

Denycunnihy > „ 

Cascade, f 

Mulgrave Barracks, 10 

Glenna Bay, 3 



Victoria Hotel. 

mile 5 miles 

" 7 



. 9 
.10 
. 9 

.12 

,14 
4 



O'Sallivan's Cascade, 3>^ " 2X 

Koss Island, (land,/ 3 

do. (water,) 1)4 

Gap of Dunloe, 14 

Carranthual, 18 

Glen in Kenmare ) 
Park, J 

Aghadoe Ruins, 



3 

13/ 

.10 
.12 



Railway Hotel. 

3 miles. 

5 " 

7 " 

8 " 

7 " 



.10 

.12 
. 6 
. 5 



.land only. 
. .12 miles. 
..14 " 

.. 53^" - 
question, the 



3K" 3X 

7 " 7 

"In point of situation that of THE LAKE HOTEL is, beyond 
very best at the Lakes of Killarney. It occupies the centre of the cii'cle de 
scribed by the mountain ranges of Mangerton, Tore, i^agle's :vest. Purple 
Mountain, Glena, Tornies, Dunio Gap and Carranthual ; and concentrates in one 
view all that is graceful, picturesque and sublime in the scenery of Killarney," 
&c., &c. — Bradskaw's Tourists' Handbook, Page 382. 

Jg®" Accommodates one hundred. Forty of the bedrooms and sitting-rooms 
face the Lake. Boats and Vehicles of every description at moderate charges. 
May be reached by trains from either Dublin, Cork, or their connections, and 

COACHES FOR THE LAKE HOTEL 
are always in waiting at the Station at KiUamey on arrival of the trains. 

JAMES COFFEE, Proprietor. 



PARIS IlSf '51~ANyOUN'CEMEN'TS. 



GIFTS TO SUBSCRIBERS 



TO 



FRANK LESLIE'S CHIMNEY CORNER! 



FRANK LESLIE'S CHIMNEY CORNER, the most successful, because 
the most valuable, varied, and artistically illustrated Family Journal in the 
United States, has just entered upon a Sixth Volume, and will contain new 
and important features, the result of a long stay in Europe by Mr. Leslie, with 
the view of securing for his publications every thing that could enhance their 
value and justify the rapid increase of their popularity. 

TERMS OF MR. LESLIE'S PUBLICATIONS : 

Frank Leslie's Chimney Corner, yearly subscription . . , $4 00 
Frank Leslie's Illustrated Paper, yearly subscription ... 4 00 
Frank Leslie's Lady's Magazine, yearly subscription ... 3 5^ 

ELEGANT INDUCEMENTS TO CLUBS. 

Mr. Leslie has imported from Italy admirable pictures in oil, of great 
merit, and such as, from their size and remarkable finish, could not be pur- 
chased for less than seventy-five or three hundred dollars each. 

L— "THE GUITAR PLAYER," by Gluliano. Size, 10 by 12^ inches. 
II.— "THE PROMISED BRIDE 5" a beautiful view on Lake Maggiore. 
Size 8+ by 1 3I inches. III.—" BREAD AND TEARS 5 OR, THE LACE 
MAKER." 'Size, i8i by 214- inches. IV.— " THE FALCONER AND 
HIS BRIDE," by Cremona; a magnificent picture, 21 by 28. 

These admirable pictures will be given on the following conditions : 

I. — Any one sending to FRANK LESLIE, 537 Pearl Street, New York, 
three subscriptions to FRANK LESLIE'S CHIMNEY CORNER, $4; 
ILLUSTRATED PAPER, $4; or LADY'S MAGAZINE, S3 5°; or 
one subscription to all three, will be entitled, in addition to the three Periodi- 
cals, to one of the fine Oil-Pictures, I.orIL, "THE GUITAR PLAYER," 
or "THE PROMISED BRIDE," at his option. 

IL— Any one sending to FRANK LESLIE, 537 Pearl Street, New York, 
five subscriptions as above to any one of the Publications, or five in all, some 
to one, some to another, will be entitled to a copy of the elegant Picture in 
Oil, No. III., "BREAD AND TEARS." 

III.— Anyone sending to FRANK LESLIE, 537 Pearl Street, New York, 
ten subscriptions, as above, will receive a copy of Picture No. IV., the 
highly-finished and brilliant " FALCONER AND HIS BRIDE." 

Where several unite spontaneously to form a club, they may decide by 
lot^who shall remain the owner of the picture. 

Where any one by his own exertions gets up a club, he may fairly retain 
the picture. 

FRANK LESLIE, 537 Pearl St. New York. 



PARIS IN '61.— ANNOUNCEMENTS, 



THE GREATEST AMERICAN IDEA, 

NOT 

Shown at the Paris Exposition, 

WAS THE 

AMERICAN SYSTEM 

OP 

MUTUAL LIFE ASSURANCE, 

OF WHICH 

The Best Exponent 

IS THE 

EQUITABLE LIFE ASSURANCE ASSO- 
CIATION, 

Office No. 9a Broadway, New York. 

WILLIAM C. ALEXANDER, President. 
HENRY B. HYDE, Vice-President. 
GEO. W. PHILLIPS, Actuary. 
JAMES W. ALEXANDER, Secretary. 



Assets — $5,000,000. Income — $3,000,000. 

Policies during 1866 — $30,000,000. 



All the most desirable and popular kinds of LIFE AND 

ENDOWMENT POLICIES issued, and every 

advantage appertaining to the business 

granted to Policy Holders. 

PURELY MUTUAL. 

The Charter of the Society requires that all Profits go to the 

Assured. 
DIVIDENDS DECLARED ANNUALLY, 

And applied as cash to the reduction of future premiums. Dividends upon 
the first year's premium maybe applied to reducing the second year's pre- 
mium, and so on annually thereafter. 

The Assured have the option annually of appljring these dividends in any of 
the FrvK roLiiOWiNa Wats, under the rules of the Society: 

FiBST — To the permanent increase of the sum assured; 

Second— To the increase of the sum assured for one year or a term of years; 

Thibd — To the permanent reduction of the premiums; 

FouBTH— To the reduction of the premiums for one or more yeura; 

FirxH— To the reduction of the numher of years in which premiums are to bo 
paid. 



-^ 



^::^- V^ = -~ >vJk^ ^ '^^pA 



\ 



o 






.0- 






'P 






-<> 



:-5\(- 






ooi 



disss', fi 



,^ 






-<. c:^^ 






'/> 



V , s ' <■! 



'^. 



\^iX^^ %^^' ^/P«i 




^iV 1^ -^ -S^% =.."^' 






'^ 



-f 



"^ .A- 



V-^ 







* ■, X ■ -^ 



•^ 



\' 



Ooi 



j^ 



f r-. 






>^' 



C, ^ 



'7 



-7- 



O.. 



c^c';,". A-^,. 



^ "^ A%i^^-^ ^^' a"^^^- ^ -^ 



\ 







<' 



\ ,,,>ie./>K^ 



'V 



0^ 












^V ^^ ^ >=^u 






Z- 






\ ■' « /, 



'A-, 



Ai 










\'- 






V, A> V /. 



aV 



\V 



-^ -v 



^-^' 



^. = \ 



■/M\' 



:. VJ^\F - '.v 



x^^ 



^ .A 











i\^ 




tc. 


<^ 




■" 


^ 


^^, 




r 




' / 


'C 


i 






%\ '"^o^ ;;;;t . -^ 













'^■o"^ : - ^ v^^ =:^ : '^0^ 















^-- ^ « i- s 



o " - / 

■■>:-■ 


'/ 


> 






'■P 






■#■ 




..\0 °< 











LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





DQDE5S3'^4a5 




